The Best of Both Worlds
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: What do you get when you have six gay men and six straight women vying for the love of one man? Why, the next hit reality show of course! rating for language and slash
1. The Audition

Disclaimer: I do not own _Newsies_, Disney does. I do, however, own the idea of _The Best of Both Worlds_, so if any big television studios want to use it, you gotta pay!

* * *

**AN: No, this isn't a re-write or anything. This story got deleted for "interaction" (and of course, they waited until I had posted 5 chapters before deleting it) so I made the proper adjustments and re-posted. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**

"Number seventy-three!"

The nasal voice shouting to be heard above the noise brought me out of my current trance. "That's me! I'm seventy-three!" I waved my ticket in the air, just in case she didn't believe me.

A small woman turned to face me. "This way," she said, beckoning me. I followed her through the double doors which had blocked-off the waiting room. Neither of us spoke as we walked down long the hallway. Me out of nervousness; her out of apathy. The only sound was of her heels striking the linoleum floor. At the end of the hallway, we came to another door, which she opened to reveal...

_Another_ fucking waiting room. As if waiting in the first one for about two hours hadn't been enough torture.

"Please wait here until Theresa comes for you," she instructed monotonously as she turned on her heel to leave. I inspected the room. Other than myself, only four other men were present. As I eased into yet another hard, plastic chair, I began to seriously think about what I was doing.

Here I was, auditioning to be on a television show. A _reality_ television show. So desperate for a relationship that I was willingly to put my dignity on the line. Yeah...that's sad. I could only imagine what sort of humiliation I would be put through before I was eventually rejected yet once again.

"I hear the guy they got for this show is absolutely _gorgeous_!" The man sitting two seats away interrupted my train of thought. "Not to mention he's loaded!"

I wasn't sure how to respond to my new outgoing acquaintance. "Oh...uh...I haven't heard that much about–"

"It's just too bad I have to compete with some girls. I mean, guys I can handle, but girls are so sneaky. They have those damn underhanded tactics. Plus, about 82 of bisexual men prefer women to men. Or is that bisexual women?"

"I'm not really–"

"But it can't be a total waste. It's not like I'll be the only gay guy there. I'm bound to meet someone." The way he looked at me and grinned insinuated I may do just fine for him. "I like your eye patch," he cooed, reaching toward me. "It's _so_ Johnny Depp. You know? Like _Pirates of the Carribean._"

I ducked out of his reach as politely as possible. "I don't believe he wore one in that movie."

"Carter, Reese?" A woman called out. "Is there a Carter, Reese?"

"Oh! That's me!" He went about making a show of collecting his various things. I think he wanted me to admire his ass. "Well, I'm off! Hope to see you there," he added with a wink.

I let out the breath I didn't even realize I had been holding. Not that he was that bad a guy. He just...wasn't right for me. Too perky and flirtatious. I didn't really know for sure what my "type" was, but I had a feeling it wasn't that.

I let my head fall against the wall behind me as the back of the chair dug into my spine. Around me there was a buzz of excitement as the others in the room flirted and shared rumors they had heard about the show. There was talk about humiliation stunts, revealing embarrassing secrets, and other cruel things done for ratings. Was it really worth it?

"Keller, Brent!"

I raised my hand. "That's me."

"You're next. Please follow me."

I stood and obeyed, suddenly struck with the feeling of being marched to my execution. But, it couldn't be _that_ bad. Could it?

In a connecting room, I saw a table of six men, each with a notepad and pencil in front of them. In the middle of the table sat a large pitcher filled halfway with water. There were large lights on either side of the table and a camera right behind the row of men. The woman grabbed my arm and lead me in front of the table where a plain white sheet was serving as a makeshift backdrop. After she instructed me to stand there, she left and I began to feel small and little intimidated. The aforementioned lights were switched on and I could no longer see anyone else.

As I raised a hand to shield my eye from the blinding light, one of the men spoke. "Please step forward and state your name."

I took a hesitant step toward them. "My name is Brent Keller. But most people just call me Blink," I added.

"Do you prefer to be called Blink?"

I shrugged. "I guess..."

"How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two. Look, I filled out the form when I came in, so it should all be on there."

None of the men responded to this. They continued to interrogate me. "Why do you want to be on our show?"

"Well, I really want a relationship. I can never seem to find the right guy around here."

"What makes you so sure our bachelor will be the right one for you?"

"Well, I don't know. But it's worth a shot I guess."

"Tell us about the sort of traits you look for in a man."

I began to wring my hands together out of nervousness. "Well, the truth is I don't know. I can't really figure out what kind of guy I like. I always think I've found the type of guy I like, but then something goes wrong with it."

"Would you mind enlightening us as to the reason for the eye patch?"

"My left eye is sensitive to light, so I have to wear a patch."

"Oh," was all he said. I think he was expecting some horror story of being blinded in an accident with an ice pick. Anything that would make me more interesting.

There was an awkward silence. I could faintly hear the rustling of papers and conspiratorial whispers. I tried to ease myself as I rocked back and forth on my heels. "One more question, Mr. Keller," one of them finally broke the silence. "How would you feel about having everything you do broadcast on television?"

I was dumbfounded. That's a strange question to ask. I was applying to be on a reality tv show. If I had a problem with being on television, I wouldn't be here. I furrowed my brow. "That's fine with me. Not that that's the only reason for me wanting to be on this show. But I'll do almost anything for a relationship." Did I just admit how desperate I was to a group of strangers?

I was almost positive that I heard a couple of snickers among them. Must have been my imagination. "Thank you. That will be all. We will be in touch."

My heart sank. I was sure I had made a jackass out of myself. And for what? For the _chance_ at having a chance to start a relationship which would probably end up in a failure anyway. I left the studio; shoulders slumped and head hanging.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Keller. This is Theresa Danse. I am calling to inform you that our producers have chosen you to be a contest on the next hit reality tv show. Get ready for the two most exciting weeks of your life! Call me at 555-2093 for more details. Welcome to _The Best of Both Worlds_!"

* * *

Woo! My next big endeavor! How exciting:silence: ...or not. Well, hope you enjoyed it! Please review :bats eyelashes: 


	2. July 18, 8:00am to 4:15pm

Disclaimer: _Newsies_ is the property of Disney. Believe me, if I owned Newsies, I wouldn't waste my time writing fanfics...Ok, so I would. Swinger, Mayfly, January, Cherry, Becca, and Smartass belong to their creators. I own The Best of Both Worlds. You want it, you gotta pay!

* * *

_Sunday, July18 _

_8:00am_ _CST_

"Ok," I thought to myself, "two weeks. That's fourteen days. I'll need boxers, T-shirts, jeans, shorts, socks, shoes, and underwear. The lady I talked with said I should bring something a little formal. Maybe a suit? Will I need a tie?" After a moment of contemplation, I placed a tie in my suitcase. "Better safe than sorry. Now what about my swim trunks? Will it look stupid to bring them? But suppose everyone decides to go swimming? I wouldn't want to be left out." As I continued through my mental check-list, the phone rang.

"Brent? It's your mother."

Wonderful. Just what I needed, "Hey, mom. I was just packing and–"

"Oh, don't forget clean underwear!"

I rolled my eyes. "I won't. I'm a big boy, mom. I can do my own packing."

I could practically see her lip quivering. "I know Brent. But I'm your mother and I want to help. Besides, you'll always be my little boy."

"So why did you call?" I cut in before she played the guilt card some more. Or reminisced about when I was a toddler. Both scenarios were bad.

"Well, I thought you may need a ride to the airport."

"Mom, I told you! Mush is going to drop me off. Besides, I wouldn't want to hassle you."

"Oh sweetie! You could never hassle me."

"Mom, I live an hour and a half away as it is. The airport is another half hour. That's a hassle."

She sighed in defeat. "All right, I understand. I want you to enjoy yourself while you're there. Try to get some rest."

"Will do, mom."

"But also get exercise!"

"I gotcha."

"And don't be so moody. You don't want everyone in the world do think you're moody, do you?"

I groaned. "Mom, I need to finish packing. I'm leaving as soon as Mush gets home."

"Oh ok. Just remember what I told you! Oh! Why don't you bring that nice sweater that Aunt Dinah made for you? I'm sure she'd love to–"

"Good-bye mom!" I tried my best not the slam the phone down. My mother means well. Truly, she does. But, sometimes she just doesn't know when to stop. She especially enjoys playing Cupid for me. I've been set up with countless guys whose mother or aunt she knows. Or whom she's seen at the store countless times. Or who just moved in down the street from her. I've tried my best to get her a new hobby, be it painting, gardening, knitting, piano, or whatnot. But she always says she doesn't want anything to get in the way of her "nurturing" me.

"I _do_ need this vacation," I murmured to myself. "Maybe after two weeks of not having me close enough to nag, she'll find better things to do." I tossed my blue swim trunks into my suitcase. "God, I hope so!"

* * *

_11:15pm_ _CST_

I found myself shoved into the backseat of a Nissan Sentra. To my right, lay my suitcase and carry-on bag. Discarded McDonald's cups and french fry cartons were scattered around my feet. "Jeez, Mush! When's the last time you cleaned out this piece of junk?"

My roommate and longtime friend grinned from the driver's seat. "At least I have a piece of junk. What have you got?"

"Hey, my feet have worked fine for years. They've never betrayed me."

"So would you like to walk to the airport?"

"He does have a point," David spoke from the front passenger seat. "I think there is some old food under the seat." The wind was blowing in his face from the open window. Leave it to Mush to buy a car without working air condition.

"Well, if you wish to clean it out, be my guest," he offered, as he made a vulgar hand gesture toward the driver next to us.

David, in an attempt to keep from starting a fight, wisely changed the subject. "So how much do you actually know about the guy you're competing for?"

I shrugged. "All they've told me is that his name is Jack Kelly. He's apparently the heir of some corporation."

"Ooo! That's the kind of guy I need! Lots of money, so I'll never have to work again in my life."

David smacked Mush's shoulder. "The guy you have right now is fine!"

"Aww, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean it. You know I only have eyes for you."

I rolled my eye. "Don't kiss and make-up in front of me. At least have the courtesy to do it in private."

"You're just jealous," Mush proclaimed smugly.

"Be that as it may, I don't need to see you guys being 'sweet' with each other. I'll get a toothache or something." I stared out the window, watching the scenery of New Orleans fly by. I couldn't help shake the feeling that when I came back, _if_ I came back, my life would somehow change. I just couldn't tell if it would change for the better or for the worse.

* * *

_12:45pm CST_

My head was resting against the back of my seat. My eyes were closed. "Four more hours, give or take," I thought. "Now is the time to back out, if you want to..."

"Are you the other contestant?"

I opened my eyes. A girl, probably around my age, was easing into the seat next to me. She had wavy, dark-brown hair which ended somewhere in the middle of her back. Her dark brown eyes were accentuated by the thin rimmed glasses which sat upon her nose. "You must be," she continued. "I'm Ashleigh, but you can just call me Mayfly," she chattered, extending her hand to me.

"Oh, I'm Brent. Call me Blink, though," I replied shaking her hand. I tried to figure out what to say next. "Uh...that's an interesting shirt." It was light blue and had a cartoon beaver yelling "Dam!"

She grinned; a somewhat maniacal, yet endearing, grin. "Yeah, I got it from Gadzooks. You know, before it started to suck."

I nodded feebly. "So, I guess you're also a contestant?"

"Yup! When they told me I would be flying out to California, I wanted to make sure I wouldn't be stuck sitting next to some weirdo. They assured me I would be with one of the other contestants." She leaned over to tie the laces of her purple Chucks. "Small world, ain't it? I mean the fact that we both live near each other and were chosen for the show."

"Sure is," I muttered.

"Is this your first time flying?"

"Nope. Third."

"You don't talk much," she observed.

I shrugged. "I don't usually have a lot to say. Besides, I think you talk enough for the both of us." I winced after I said it. I didn't want to offend her.

However, she didn't seem to mind. "I'm worse when I have chocolate!"

A glance in her direction told me she wasn't kidding. "I'll keep that in mind."

The speakers above us crackled loudly. "This is your captain speaking. We hope to be leaving the ground within a few minutes. Please direct your attention to the flight attendants for safety instructions..." His voice wavered in and out as three women stood in the aisle and performed a pantomime. "We will reach our destination in approximately four hours and thirteen minutes," he finally concluded.

Four more hours until the rest of my life.

* * *

_2:57pm __PST_

"We have reached our destination, San Francisco, California. I hope you have enjoyed flying with us. Please watch your step on the way out and have a lovely day."

Mayfly and I stood bunched between the aisles with the other passengers. We tried to maneuver to the front of the plane, carry-on bags in hand. "Do you know where we're going?" I inquired of her.

"Well, I think next we need to go to Baggage Claim and get the rest of our luggage."

"Well, I meant do you know how we're supposed to get to the place we're staying?"

"They're sending a driver or something." She grinned and cuffed my shoulder with her free hand. "Don't worry, Blinky-babe! They won't just leave us stranded!"

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Don't ever call me 'Blinky-babe' ever again."

"Aye, Aye!" she cried out, with a mock salute. "Or I guess in your case, just one 'Aye'!"

In spite of myself, I had to smile. "That was really, _really_ bad."

"Yeah, but I only have so much time to work on my witty remarks."

I scanned the signs which surrounded us, looking for directions to the Baggage Claim. A melee of crying children, exhausted parents, rushed business men, tearful lovers, and other assorted characters pushed around us. "I hate airports."

"Well, we'll be out of here soon enough," Mayfly assured. Grabbing my arm, she pushed through the crowd. "And it'll _so_ be worth it."

"How do you know? Neither of us may be chosen."

"Yeah, but we get a two-week, all-expense paid vacation. Nothing bad can come out of that."

I shook my head. "You're way too optimistic."

"Maybe so but–Oh! Cute guy!" She pointed in the direction of a very attractive man. "Don't you think he's absolute sex?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Too bad for you he's gay."

"He _so_ is not!"

"Oh come on! I have 'Gay-dar', I can tell. He is definitely..." I trailed off as he and a woman met in an embrace. "Ok, so that's his sister." The embrace became a passionate kiss. "...and they're _very_ close..."

Mayfly shot me a triumphant grin. "Come on," she ordered as she lead me away.

After a slight detour to retrieve our luggage, we saw a man holding a sign which read "The Best of Both Worlds."

"Are you the contestants?" he asked as we approached him. We nodded. "Follow me then."

"Is that for us?" Mayfly practically screeched as we were lead to a limousine. Not a big, stretch limo, but a limo nonetheless.

"Of course. What did you think you'd be riding in?"

"Dude! I haven't ridden in a limo since senior prom. And that was a really crappy one!" she exclaimed latching onto my arm.

The chauffeur began packing the bags into the trunk. "It will be a bit of a ride," he informed us, "so make yourselves comfortable. There is a radio and a CD player. Also, the cooler is filled with drinks." After the final bag was in, he slammed the trunk down and opened the door for us amiably.

"_Nice_," Mayfly affirmed as we slid in.

I nodded in agreement as I made my way to the cooler. "You want a drink?" I offered.

She was flipping through the CD case she had snagged from her carry-on, but paused to look up. "What have they got?"

I surveyed the contents. "It looks like just some soft drinks. Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, 7up," I listed.

She selected a CD and placed it in the CD player. "Coke is fine," she replied, pressing "play." Moments later, the strumming of a guitar was heard. "December 24th, 9pm. Eastern standard time. From here on in I shoot without a script..." she sang along while bobbing her head.

I grabbed two Cokes and sat back next to Mayfly, handing one to her. "What is this?"

She stopped singing and looked at me as though I had three nipples. "Um..._Rent_..." I continued to stare at her blankly. "_You_ are a failure as a gay man!" she proclaimed shaking her head sadly.

I was about to ask, but decided just to leave it be. "Well," I began as I opened my bottle, "here's to new experiences." I held my bottle up for a toast.

She clinked her bottle against mine. "Abso-fucking-lutely!"

* * *

_4:03 pm __PST_

The chauffeur, who insisted we call him Richard, hadn't been kidding. The ride to our destination was long, though eventful. Mayfly and I spent the time getting to know one another better, while she slowly began introducing me to the world of musical theater. I was forced to listen to songs from _Rent_, _Avenue Q_, _Wicked_, _Zanna, Don't!_, _Tick...Tick...Boom!_, _Last 5 Years_, and countless others.

"Now Blink," she began as we listened to "The Internet is For Porn", "Over the next two weeks I want you to listen to these and learn them." I simply nodded obligingly.

The divider in the front of the limo rolled down as the vehicle slowed to a halt. "We're here!" Richard announced joyfully.

I glanced out the window. "Holy fuck!" I shouted. "Would you take a look at this place?" The limo door was opened by Richard. Mayfly and I exited and stood in awe. Before us was a mansion. Not just a nice fancy house that you may see every now and then while driving around town. I mean an honest to God mansion! It was the kind of thing you imagined billionaires to live in.

"Shit, this place is HUGE!" Mayfly muttered next to me.

"It sure is something, ain't it?" We simultaneously turned our heads. Standing a few feet behind us stood a guy holding a smoldering cigarette. I guess you couldn't really say he was your typical "gorgeous"guy, but there was something that attracted me. He had this air of sexiness surrounding him. He was wearing plain jeans, a silky, black, button-up shirt, and a pair of simple sneakers. He seemed to come up to about my chin. He had unruly, dark hair, an olive-tone to his skin, deep, sexy brown eyes, and a slight smirk on his face. Not to mention he was very, _very_ Italian. Have I ever mentioned I am incredibly turned on by Italians?

"Uh...are you Jack?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Nah, just another contestant." He held out his hand. "Just call me Racetrack. I'm a bit of a gambler," he explained after seeing my quizzical expression. "And you two are..."

"I'm Mayfly." They both turned to me expectantly. "This is Blink," she stated with exasperation after it became apparent I had momentarily lost the ability to speak.

Racetrack smirked again. It was kind of cute. "Well, it's nice of met both of you." Tossing the cigarette to the ground, he cocked his head in the direction of the mansion. "Why don't you come in? You can meet the rest of the contestants."

We were lead through two, large double doors. Inside, two mahogany staircases began from either side of the room, and wound up, joining together at the second floor. A large chandelier hung above our heads. The floors were polished and waxed. "Everyone is in the study right now," Race informed us, as he walked off to a room to our right.

In the room was a large couch, a love seat, and an assortment of chairs. All of them were occupied Sitting in a large, plush velvet chair at the head of the room was an older woman. She had frizzy red hair which was piled in a neat bun on top of her head. She was dressed in a horrid pink suit. "Ah!" she spoke in a horribly fake Swedish accent. "I see our final contestants have arrived!" She stood to greet us. "My name is Medda Larkson and I am the host of 'The Best of Both Worlds!'" She introduced herself with a flourish. I guess we were supposed to be impressed. She turned to the other occupants of the room. "Perhaps you should introduce yourselves to our final guests."

On the couch sat two men and two women. One man had blonde hair, even lighter than mine, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes which were accentuated by a pair of glasses. He was also sporting a Weezer T-shirt and jeans, and a pair of red converse high-tops which had seen better days. "Hey, I'm Ian Svenson, but you can just call me Dutchy." He extended his hand to each of us.

To his right sat a young woman with deep brown eyes. Her hair was mostly a deep brown, but had a red tint to it where the sun reflected off of it. She was wearing a very short skirt which showed off her legs nicely, a top which didn't leave much to the imagination, and a pair of black stiletto boots. On top off her head was perched a pair of sunglasses and I saw a slight sparkle from her bellybutton. "My real name is Tammy Shown, but everyone calls me Cherry," she explained.

On the side of her sat a man whose brown eyes seemed filled with paranoia. He had unruly brown hair, which seemed to work on him, and was probably the tallest person in the room. He wore a black tank-top, cargo pants, and a simple pair of brown sandals. A small stud shone in each ear, and a larger one could be seen in his upper right ear. "Uh...my name is Xavier Durnham, but...you can just call me Skittery," he managed to stutter. I noticed his leg was bouncing rapidly up and down; a habit I see people form a lot when they're nervous.

At the end of the couch there sat a young woman who just oozed with perkiness. Her bright blue eyes shone, and were complimented by her wavy strawberry blonde hair. She had on a teal baby-  
tee, which read "Abercrombie & Fitch", a pair of capri jeans with rhinestone on them, and teal flip-flops. I noticed her toenails were also painted a bright teal. I had a feeling teal was her favorite color. "Hi!" she practically bounced out of her seat. "My name is January Sanders. But you can just call me Jan. You know, cause it's short for January!" She giggled at her own joke. Or what she considered to be a joke.

On the love seat, was another woman. This one sat about a head shorter than almost everyone else, but had a strong build. She had a light tan, green eyes and short brown hair which stuck out from her black fedora. She also had a baby-tee and a skirt which ended slightly below her knees. On her feet, she was sporting sneakers. She smiled at us. "How's it going? I'm Lute McDonaghey, or Swinger. I'll probably answer to either."

Next to her was a man. At least I'm pretty sure it was a man. He had short black hair, and brown eyes. His clothing, however, was a different story. His top was black and was short enough that it showed off his well-developed abs. The shirt had only a pair of red, glittery lips depicted on it. He also wore a pair of hip-huggers which seemed to be a little too tight on him. On his feet, he had glittery red platform sandals. On his head, he had a glittery, rainbow cowboy hat. "Hi," he purred, "the name is Dominic Riquors, but most people call me Bumlets." I must have been giving him a strange look because he added, "It's a _long_ story..."

On the chair next to the love seat sat a man of medium height. He had curly dark hair, and I saw pensive brown eyes peeking out behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a dark green button-down Oxford shirt which was tucked into a pair of khaki pants. He also wore a pair of simple white sneakers. "My name is Joshua Hauser. People tend to call me Specs, though," he said, grimacing slightly to show his disapproval.

Sitting in a stiff, wooden chair was quite possibly the palest girl I'd ever seen. She looked as though she'd never even seen the sun before. Even her light blue eyes and honey-colored hair seemed dark in comparison. She looked very Bohemian in a silky, short-sleeved tan top, a flowing, lacy, black skirt, and a pair of simple black sandals, which showed off the silver plain ring on her toe. "Rebecca Elizabeth Taylor," she introduced curtly.

"You don't have any kind of nickname," I asked, slightly surprised.

She stared at me before replying. "Becca, you imbecile."

Jeez. Sorry for asking.

The last person in the room was a woman. Her bright, clear blue eyes were complimented by her mid-back length black hair which hung in loose curls. She wore a red velvet top with a silky black wrap-around skirt. I was pretty sure I'd seen that exact outfit in some of the fashion magazines. Her shoes were a pair of black stilettos adorned with rhinestones. In addition, she was wearing about as much jewelry as humanly possible. And not costume jewelry; _fine jewelry_. "I'm Vaughn Kensington, but you can call me Smartass," she said with a thick British accent. " My father is Lawrence Kensington I. Perhaps you've heard of him," she stated in a tone of superiority.

"Nope, can't say I have," Mayfly replied curtly. From the glare she received, I'd say Smartass was somewhat offended by that.

"And I assume you've already met Vincent?" Medda cut in. Catching my confusion, she gestured toward Racetrack.

Hm...Vincent. I like it.

Mayfly stepped forward. "I'm Ashleigh Bennet, but mostly people call me Mayfly."

"Brent Keller," I introduced myself. "But you can call me Blink."

"Well, you both must be very tired from your journey," Medda stated more than asked.

Mayfly fell into a nearby chair. "Well, our flight left at about one and was four hours."

"Wait," Jan furrowed her brow, "if it was four hours, then wouldn't you have gotten to the airport at five o'clock?"

Specs rolled his eyes. "Sweetie, there are these things called 'time zones.'" The look on Jan's face indicated that his answer hadn't exactly helped.

"Well, I suggest you all get settled into your rooms. You only have about forty-five minutes before we will begin taping. I also suggest you wear something..._nice_."Medda instructed as she inspected the apparel of most of us. "I hope you will all enjoy your stay here."

* * *

Woo! End of the second chapter. I know it's kind of ending in a weird spot. But as I was writing this chapter (or what I was hoping would be this chapter) I was hitting 16 pages, with even more to go. So I felt it best to just stop here and break it up into two parts. So chapter three is half-written. Maybe if I'm not too lazy, it'll be up sooner rather than later. And, until next time, much love :blows kisses: 


	3. 4:15pm to 2:18am

Disclaimer: Do you know how many of these characters I own:holds up a large sign reading "Zero": Disney owns the characters who appear in _Newsies_, Mayfly, Swinger, Becca, Jan, Smartass, and Cherry belong to their respected creators. I only own the idea for Best of Both Worlds.

* * *

There were four rooms, each occupied by three people. I wound up in the room with Race and Skittery. The rooms turned out to be nicer than I had expected. There was a bunk bed placed against the wall on one side of the room and a single bed against the wall on the other side. In the center was a night stand which held a television on it, as well as a VCR. There was a small love seat with a chair on either side of it. Amazingly, there was also a fireplace, though we'd have little use for it. I was relieved to find a door which led to our own bathroom. Sharing a bathroom with two other people was certainly better than sharing one with eleven other people. 

"Not too shabby," Race commented with a nod of approval.

Skittery made his way to the single bed wordlessly and plopped down upon it.

"I guess that leaves us with the bunk bed," Race concluded, glancing at me with a knowing smirk. "So do you wanna be on the top or the bottom?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

My face turned a light shade of pink. "Uh...I'll take the bottom," I stammered.

He chortled slightly. "Just the way I like it."

I tried to ignore his comment, and instead went about unpacking my things. Race followed my lead. Skittery remained on his bed, making some sort of grunting noise. I also noticed he was twitching slightly.

I had a feeling things were going to be interesting.

* * *

_4:47pm __PST_

I was adjusting the silk, cream-colored tie in the mirror. Along with it, I wore a dark-green dress shirt, and black slacks. I had to admit that I looked pretty damn good.

Race, with his hair slicked back, appeared behind me in the mirror and looked intently at me. "Not bad," he critiqued with a whistle. He had opted for a plain white dress shirt, no tie, pinstripe slacks, and black suspenders. Have I ever mentioned how sexy I think suspenders are?

Skittery exited from the bathroom. He had on brown slacks and a light-blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was still in the same state it had been before, and it looked as though he really didn't care. He sat down on a nearby chair and began tapping his fingers.

"So are you ready to go?" I asked, after I finally got my tie just right.

"Sure," Skittery replied unenthusiastically, removing himself from the chair. We each checked ourselves once more in the mirror before exiting our room. A package lay in each of our hands. I had been told to bring some kind of a gift to present to Jack on our first meeting. It was supposed to be something that represented who I was. I hadn't been told exactly what the gift's purpose would be, but I was assured that I would get it back.

As we reached the stairs, we met up with Mayfly, Swinger, and Smartass. Mayfly was dressed in a pleated jean skirt, as well as a red, off-the-shoulder top. On her feet I saw sparkly red flip-flops. Swinger was still sporting the black fedora and sneakers. Now, though she wore a dressier, form fitting red tee and a medium length white skirt. Smartass, however, stood out in the trio. She wore a silky, red strapless dress, which really showed off her body. The dress ended at her calf, but had a slit which ran just above her knee. She wore the same shoes and jewelry as before, only now she had added a tiara atop her head. If you ask me, it seemed a little tacky.

"My, my!" Swinger called out. "Don't you boys look nice!"

Race held his hand up in a mock attempt to shield his eyes from the glare of Smartass's accessories. "Christ! Is your neck hurting from the weight of that crown?"

She snorted. "Is your dick hurting from the strain of those suspenders?" It was fairly obvious the two of them would be butting heads many times.

"Seriously," Dutchy joined in as he neared us. He had on khaki pants and a blue and white stripped button-up shirt, which was opened to reveal a white undershirt. "Are you going for the Steve Urkel look?" His comment was good-natured, but something inside of me caused me to speak up anyway.

"I _like_ the suspenders!"

All eyes suddenly turned on me. "Ooh, I guess we know who Blink is going to be thinking of when he mastur–"

Race slapped a hand over Smartass's mouth. "Don't be so perverted. You're just mad because he likes me and not you!"

Jan and Becca were making their way down the hall. Jan was babbling on about one thing or another while Becca just tried not to resort to violence. "Hi everyone!" Jan exclaimed. She was dressed in a teal halter top, a khaki skirt, and teal open-toed heels. "I was just telling Becky about my singing career!"

Becca winced openly. "_Becca_. My name is _Becca_." She was still wearing the same skirt as before. Now, though, she had on a dark blue, billowing blouse which had slits in its sleeves, exposing her arms. Her sandals had gone from black to silver and the toe ring remained.

"You're a singer?" Mayfly asked disbelievingly.

"Well, not yet," she admitted. "But I will be. I will totally be the next Christina!"

"What about Britney?" I asked, somewhat amused.

Her face contorted into a look of disgust. "Ewww! Have you seen her lately? She is soooooo white trash now!"

"Only _now_?" Swinger muttered.

Jan continued "Besides, Britney is too pop. I wanna be punk! Like Avril!"

Dutchy burst out laughing. "Avril? Punk? Please. Wearing a tie and heavy make-up does not make you punk."

Jan pouted. "Then what does?"

"Look; 'punk' is not a fashion statement. It's a way of being. You can't just 'look' punk."

Jan bit her lip, trying to think of a comeback. "But–"

"Hey!" Skittery snapped. "Could we just please go down to the library?" We were stunned; mainly because that was the most we'd heard him say. In a silent agreement, we all descended the stairs and made our way to the library.

Like the study, and probably every room in this place, it had a couch, a love seat, and various chairs set about. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each filled with books. At the far end of the room was a desk and large cushy chair. This room was also equipped with a fireplace. I noticed also that a few select paintings were hung around the room.

Specs had already arrived and was sitting on the love seat reading. He was still in khakis, but he had changed into a white dress shirt. He also wore a red and gold stripped tie, which pleased me. I was afraid I'd be overdressed.

"Hey," he spoke without looking up from his book.

"What are you reading?" Mayfly peered over his shoulder.

He looked up at her in annoyance. "_The Man in the Iron Mask_."

"Oh!" Jan cried. "I loved that movie! Leo was soooooo hot! I didn't know they had made it into a book!" Behind her, Becca held up her hands and made a motion which resembled strangulation.

"Yes, I have arrived!" a voice spoke from the doorway. There stood Bumlets. He had lost the hip-huggers in favor of black leather pants. His shirt had changed to a purple mesh top, and he now sported Madonna-type black lace gloves. He also had on more make-up than a few of the girls. He shot us a smug grin, before strutting into the room, and plopping down on one of the chairs.

"So..." Race began awkwardly. "What time is it?"

"4:58," Dutchy replied after a glance at his watch. "Medda should be here soon."

Cherry burst through the door while trying to put on a pair of silver heels. "Am I late?" She looked around and relaxed when she saw no cameras. "Thank God. It took me a while to get ready."

"Maybe if you hadn't spent so much time in the shower..." Becca trailed off bitterly.

Cherry sat down next to Specs and finished putting on her shoes. She had a zebra print skirt (if there was even enough of it to be considered a skirt), and a silver tube top. Like Smartass, she had a bit of jewelry on as well. But hers was nowhere near as extravagant. Her sunglasses remained on top of her head. "So, what have I missed?"

"Only Jan's mind-blowing intellect," Smartass answered.

Jan blushed, missing the sarcasm. "Well, I _did _graduate in like the top half of my class."

The door opened to reveal a giant puff of cotton candy with red frizzy hair, behind which stood a fairly large camera crew. "Oh, it is so good to see you all here." Medda spoke. She was wearing a vomit-inducing pink gown and with pink leather boots. I can't understand why someone would _make_ pink leather boots, let alone why someone would wear them. "And I see you all came prepared with a gift."

"Yeah, about that," Mayfly began. "What is the point of these gifts?"

"All shall be explained," Medda said mysteriously. "But first, I assume you would all like to meet the man for whom you are all competing." There was a buzz of agreement.

So, with a snap of Medda's fingers, the crew hurried about setting up their equipment and setting us up in some kind of a formation. "We want it to look planned, yet sporadic," one of the crew members explained.

"Isn't that kind of an oxymoron?" I mused turning to the person next to me on the love seat. Seeing it was Jan, I realized my question was lost on her.

"A _what_?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Never mind." I think my I.Q. was going to drop a few points just from having to converse with her.

"Welcome!" Medda cried out dramatically. "You have each been specially selected by our producers. For what, you ask? For the chance to meet a soulmate!"

Could it be any cheesier?

"For the next two weeks you will all be living together. You will take part in challenges and receive rewards for every win. You will all be striving toward the same goal though." She clapped her hands together and smiled knowingly into the camera. "So, before we go any further, perhaps we should meet the man whose love you will be vying for." She gestured toward the door. "Allow me to introduce...Jack Kelly!"

We all turned expectantly toward the door. It opened to reveal a very,_ very_ attractive man. His ruddy complexion was accentuated by his dirty blonde hair. His hazel eyes looked at us with both interest and amusement. He wore an impish grin on his face. In black slacks, a gray-blue dress shirt, and a conspicuous red bandana which was tied around his neck, he looked like your stereotypical cowboy. The boots and hat didn't help. I half-expected him to speak with a western twang.

"Hello," he spoke (without an accent) once he reached the center of the room. "I'm Jack Kelly. It is a pleasure to be meeting all of you."

Could it have sounded any more rehearsed?

Medda motioned for Jack to stand near the fireplace between two small tables before turning back to us. "You will each take turns stepping forward and introducing yourself to Jack. You will state your name, your age, where you are from, and your occupation. You will then present him with a gift; a gift which represents who you are and maybe why he should choose you above everyone else." She paused for dramatic effect, glancing around the room. "These gifts will play a part in each elimination round," she finally continued. "As you know, there will be a total of six elimination rounds within the next two weeks, which will result in only one winner. In the first five elimination rounds, one man and one woman will be eliminated. In the final one, Jack will make the ultimate choice between the remaining man and remaining woman.

"The first four rounds will take place in this very room. Every contestant still in the game will be assembled here. Jack will then hand back two of the gifts which will be presented to him this evening; one will be given back to a man and one will be given back to a woman. If he returns your gift to you, it signifies your elimination and you will be asked to pack your things and leave immediately." She paused again, this time looking at everyone's reaction. "Now, without further adieu, I ask you each to present yourselves as well as your gift."

There was a silence in the room, each of us nervously eyeing the others. No one wanted to go first. Medda's charming smile had turned to a slightly angry glare. She gave an exasperated sigh. "Ian, why don't we begin with you?"

Dutchy looked up, slightly dazed. "Oh...uh sure." Rising to his feet, he walked toward Jack, who looked on expectantly. "I'm Ian Svenson, better known as Dutchy. I'm nineteen and from Detroit. I work at a local video store, but my main passion is my music. I play guitar in a garage band called The Bad Apples." He reached into a rather small package. "I present to you my guitar pick," he said. Jack accepted his gift and nodded. Dutchy returned to his seat.

Smartass waited to see if anyone was going to go next. When no one volunteered, she rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm Vaughn Kensington, but you can call me Smartass. In case it isn't obvious, I'm originally from England, but I now live in New York where I study Law and Business. And I'm twenty-one." With a smirk, she reached into her purse and pulled out her gift. "I present you with a ring. It's been in my family for years. It holds a ruby, surrounded by diamonds." She gave him a wink, before returning to her seat.

Bumlets practically bounced out of his seat, with new found confidence. "Dominic Riquor, but you can call me Bumlets. Twenty-three-year-old aspiring fashion designer, currently working at a hair salon in Boston," he blew through all the questions and then reached into his bag with a twinkle in his eye. "I present you with," he began, "this!" In his hand he held a long, slender, somewhat cylindrically-shaped object. Yes. A dildo. "Just remember; choose me and you could get the real deal." He returned to his seat, head high, as the rest of us gawked.

"Is he allowed to do that?" Mayfly mouthed to me from the chair. I shrugged in reply.

After getting over her initial shock, Swinger courageously went next. "Most people call me Swinger, but my real name is Lute McDonaghey. I'm twenty-three, and a band instructor for a high school in Savannah." She opened the box she held to reveal some kind of flower. "I present to you a dahlia. It's simple, sweet, and quasi-unique."

Jan burst out of her seat before Swinger even sat down. "Hi!" she exclaimed. "I'm January Sanders. You know, like the month? Well, I just turned twenty this past January! I'm from Forsythe County and a Cosmetology major, but one day I hope to be a singer!" She smiled broadly as she opened the package. "I wasn't sure what to give you, so I decided to give you my most prized possession." She pulled a small container out. "It's my lip gloss, and I hardly ever go out without it! And it's strawberry flavor." Jack did his best not to laugh, and accepted the item.

Racetrack rose to his feet. "Hey, I'm Vincent Higgins, also known as Racetrack. I'm a twenty-one-year-old from Las Vegas, where I work the craps table." He took Jack's hand and held it open, palm up. "I give to you, my lucky dice," he said placing the dice in Jack's hand and closing it over them. He turned to go back to his seat. But not before shooting me a grin. I could feel my face flushing.

As I willed my face to return to it's natural color, I barely noticed that Becca was now standing. As she made her way toward Jack, a small glint of silver fell to the ground in front of me. I picked it up and saw it was a bracelet. I opened my mouth to inform her, but, seeing she was now in front of Jack choose to stick it in my pocket for now and return it to her once the cameras had stopped rolling.

"I'm Rebecca Elizabeth Taylor," she spoke softly. "You can just call me Becca though. I'm nineteen, and I attend NYU as an Art major. That's probably what I want to do when I grow up." She carefully removed a sheet of paper from the folder she was carrying. "This is a charcoal sketch of the view from the Brooklyn Bridge. I present it to you." She finished quietly

Specs was the next to stand. "I'm Joshua Hauser, but I seem to have accumulated the nickname Specs. I'm twenty-five. I currently live in New Jersey, where I graduated from Princeton _Summa Cum Laude_. I now work for a software company." He held out a rather large package. " This box contains the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe, one of the greatest writers to live. I present it to you."

Cherry stood and walked toward Jack, a sexy grin resting on her face. "Hi," she cooed. "I'm Tammy Shown. I'm a twenty-one-year-old student from New Jersey who spends her free-time working at the local bar." She held up a bag teasingly. "My gift," she began as she reached inside the bag, "is this." She pulled out a silky, silver bra with a rather large cup size. "It's one of mine, if you couldn't tell." She explained, doing her best to make her breasts seem more robust. "Just think of this when you're making your eliminations."

Nine down; three to go. Skittery was the next to introduce himself. "Uh...hi." He stammered. "My name is Xavier Durnham, but I'm usually called Skittery. I'm from Maine, I'm twenty-four, and I'm currently unemployed." He nervously opened his small box. "It's not really much but...uh..." He held up some sort of a brownish object. "It's a lock of my hair. Just so you can think of me sometimes." He slowly made his way back to his seat, twitching slightly.

Talk about your psychos.

That left only Mayfly and myself. We glanced at each other, trying to figure out who would go. She shrugged indifferently and stood. "Hi, I'm Ashleigh Bennet. A lot of people call me Mayfly though. I'm twenty-one, and I reside in Louisiana. I attend Tulane University, and...that's it," she finished. "I have what I call 'My Everything Book', which is basically filled with poems, song lyrics, random sayings, drawings, and other crap." She pulled what resembled a journal out of the bag she was holding. "This book is pretty much who I am. So that's why I decided to present it to you as my gift." She turned and regained her seat.

That left me. I summoned all the guts inside of me, and willed my body into an upright, standing position. "I'm Brent Keller," I choked out. "I'm twenty-two and also form Louisiana," I put in, with a grin in Mayfly's direction. "I am currently between jobs, but my main goal in life is to write a book. I don't really know what kind of book, but just a book." The bag in my hand was rocking back and forth. I began to wonder if my gift was _that_ great of an idea. Of course, it couldn't be any worse than Bumlets's gift. Or Skittery's for that matter. "Um, one of my favorite books of all-time is _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_. I can really connect to Charlie, the main character of the book." I pulled my precious copy out of the bag. "So, that's why I present it to you." He accepted with a smile of thanks and placed it on the table on his right, which held the gifts from the men. The table to his left held the gifts from the women.

"Well!" Medda broke the silence. " Now that we're all good friends, let us proceed to the dining room for dinner."

As Jack seated himself at the head of a long dining room table, Bumlets, Cherry, and Smartass dove for either of the chairs closest to him.

"Ahem!" Medda glared at them. "You need not fight. We have randomly selected who will sit where."

A few groans were heard, but no one fought back. I ended up to the right of Jack. Down the line to my right were Race, Specs, Bumlets, Skittery, and Dutchy. Across, from left to right, sat Mayfly, Jan, Cherry, Becca, Swinger and Smartass. As we settled in, a group of five waiters entered, each carrying at least two plates.

"What kind of salad is this?" Dutchy inquired, poking at the lettuce with his fork.

"Caesar salad," one of the waiters replied.

"I think I'll pass," Dutchy decided, handing his plate to a nearby waiter. "I'm not much of a salad person.

Jan was observing the utensils. "Why are there so many forks and spoons?"

Smartass rolled her eyes. "One fork is for your salad, and one is for the entree. One spoon is for the soup and the other is for dessert," she explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What the hell does it matter which fork you use? Shit, I'll use whatever I want to eat." Race defiantly grabbed a tomato from his plate with his hands and bit into it.

"Slob!"

"Bitch!"

"Both of you just shut the fuck up!" Skittery hissed.

I couldn't help notice that the camera crew was still filming. This kind of drama was probably a producer's wet dream.

"So, Jack," Swinger broke the tension, "You know about all of us. Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

"Well," he began after a sip of wine, "I'm twenty-four and I've lived in California most of my life. My grandfather struck oil in Santa Fe, which explains our fortune. I like to spend a lot of my time on the family ranch out there." Well, that explained the western attire.

As I lifted a fork full of lettuce up to my mouth, and hand came around me, grabbing my plate. "Let me get that for you," the waiter behind me spoke.

"I wasn't done...uh...yeah..." I spoke futilely, as he also reached to take Race's plate. Another plate, however, appeared before us. On this one sat a salmon filet, mashed potatoes, and corn.

"So you've never worked or anything?" Specs inquired.

Jack laughed. "Not a day in my life."

"This house is fucking enormous," Mayfly added. "You don't get lonely here?"

"Sure I do. That's why I'm looking for a life partner," Jack replied with a sly wink.

"What kind of music do you like?" Dutchy asked.

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "I like a lot of different kinds. Jazz, country, alternative. But lately, I've gotten into some Broadway stuff. Especially Jason Robert Brown musicals."

Mayfly's fork clattered against the plate. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him. "I. Love. You!" This caused a thorough discussion of said musicals. Specs rolled his eyes, Cherry and Bumlets opted to simply glare at the talking pair, and I'm pretty sure I saw Smartass mouth something along the lines of "suck-up."

As I took in the expressions of my fellow contestants, I couldn't help but allow my eyes to fall upon Skittery. His eyes were also fixed on Jack and Mayfly. His, however, had a darker tone to them. An almost dangerous glint. His knife rested precariously in his hand, his thumb softly running along the blade.

Something about that man scared the everlasting shit out of me.

* * *

_6:53pm __PST_

By the time dessert (chocolate pudding, dressed with whipped cream and a cherry on top) was served, each of us had had at least three glasses of wine apiece. The atmosphere of the room had become incredibly relaxed as we all began to settle with our new surroundings and new friends.

"So Jack," Cherry purred, has she seductively licked the whipped cream from her namesake, "which do you like better: girls or boys?" It was a loaded question. The room fell to an almost eerie silence as we waited for the answer.

After a moment of contemplation, Jack seemed to reach an answer. "I like both. I mean, each has it's advantage."

It was apparent by the murmur which filled the air that no one accepted that answer. Yet, everyone was too drunk and too tired to really rebut. Still, I was sure it was a topic which would be brought up many times over the course of the next two weeks.

"And so," Medda spoke, half to us, half to the cameras, "this concludes the first day. You may now retreat to your rooms if you so wish. There is also a game room which will be opened, the library, and anywhere else you wish to go in the house. The only area which is off-limits is the third floor."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why is that off-limits?"

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it seemed as though Medda faltered for a moment. "Well..."

"That's where many of the family heirlooms are located," Jack interjected. "I'd prefer it if you didn't go tramping about up there."

Medda shot him a smile. "Thank you, Jack. Now get plenty of rest. You have a big day ahead of you!" And with that, we all stood to go our separate ways.

"Hey, anyone up for a game of poker?" Race asked with his ever-present smirk. Swinger, Dutchy, and Smartass agreed. "How about you Blink?"

"Nah, I think I'll just get to bed. Right now my body thinks it's 11:00pm," I explained, yawning as if to strengthen my point.

Upon hearing that Jack planned to return to his room, Cherry and Bumlets reluctantly decided to do the same. Specs headed back off to the library, Skittery mumbled something about a walk, and Jan glanced at the clock and realized she was missing her favorite show (Everwood? One Tree Hill? The OC? Lord knows I can't tell them apart!).

"Jack," Becca began. "Is there a good balcony I can use? I would love to get some sketches of the view."

"Your best bet would be the balcony over the front entrance."

"Oh that sounds nice and relaxing," Mayfly decided. " I think I'll come with you."

Becca whipped her head around. "Actually, I'd prefer to be alone if you don't mind." Without waiting for an answer, she left.

Mayfly frowned slightly. "Ok, I guess I'll just turn in then."

She and I ascended the stairs together and made our way down the hall. "So how do you like it so far?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She shrugged. "It's nice. I guess. I feel kind of self-conscious with all the cameras though." She glanced around conspiratorially. "What do you think about the others?"

"I haven't quite made up my mind yet."

We said our goodnights as we each reached our rooms. I undressed quickly and pulled myself under the covers. As my eyes began closing, I realized I still had Becca's bracelet. Groaning, I pulled myself from the warmth of the bed, pulled on a shirt and went through my pockets. It would be best to give it to her now, while I was thinking about it, rather than wait and forget again.

I walked out into the hall. Jack had suggested the balcony above the front doors. I quickly took in my surroundings and decided on which way I needed to go.

"So," I muttered, "if I take a right up here, the balcony should be the third door on the right." I opened the door, allowing the slightly cool air in. However, with the exception of two chairs, the balcony was completely vacant. I double checked to make sure this was the correct balcony. "Strange. I could've sworn she said she was coming here." Due to the drowsiness pulling at my eyelids, I figured it was better not to dwell on this. After all, she probably found a better view somewhere else.

I again entered the room and slid under the covers. My head had barely hit the pillow before I was sleeping soundly.

* * *

_2:18am __PST_

I was walking down a long hallway. However, in place of actual walls were a row of waterfalls. I could feel the water running along the ground, but I seemed unaffected. I was practically walking on it. Not _in_ it; _on_ it. Like Jesus. Only I'm not the Messiah. I don't _think_ I am anyway.

Above me, I saw a mass of water balloons and Super Soakers, both equipped with a pair of wings, flying. I think that's when it really hit me: this was all a dream. But why am I dreaming this? After all, what meaning does a dream which is filled with water usually have?

Oh, right. I have to pee.

I sprang up, attempting to untangle myself from my blanket. I knew it was going to be a photo finish. "I knew I shouldn't have had all that wine," I muttered, barely making it.

After washing my hands, I quietly tiptoed back to my bed. As I passed Skittery's bed, however, I heard what could only be described as a soft moan. His face was pressed against the white pillow, but there was a small splash of color which vibrantly stood out. As I neared closer, my breath caught in my throat. Grasped in his hands was a red bandana. Jack's red bandana. He held it against the side of his face. Where the _hell_ had he gotten it from?

I jumped slightly as he stirred, then quickly got back into bed. I didn't even want to _think_ about what he'd do if he realized I had caught him. "That guy is clinically insane," I thought before falling asleep once again.

* * *

Woo! Yet another chapter down! I'm so incredibly proud of myself :does happy dance: Please review! 


	4. July 19, 7:30am to 5:30pm

Disclaimer: Disney owns Newsies. I spent all of my money on Christmas gifts, so please don't sue. The idea for The Best of Both Worlds belongs to me. Any OC's belong to their creators.

* * *

_Monday, July 19_

_7:30am PST_

I am not a morning person. Hell, I don't even consider anytime before 10:00am to be morning. Just very late night. Still, after the twelfth time the phone rang, I felt obliged to answer it. "Mpffzzle?"

"Hello!" an overly cheery voice answered, unfazed by my lack of coherence. "This is your wake-up call! Please be down stairs by 8:30 for breakfast."

I don't think I even replied. Instead, I dropped the receiver clumsily into the cradle, sat up, and smacked my head against the top bunk. "Fuck!"

"Whoa, sailor! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Race's head had appeared from the top bunk.

I yawned. "C'mon. We have to be downstairs an hour." I glanced at Skittery who still lay asleep. Race must have followed my vision.

"If you wake him up, I'll let you have the shower first."

"Having the shower doesn't mean anything if he kills me first. How about we 'Rock, Paper, Scissor' for it?"

He held a fist out to me. "Ok. On the count of three. One...two...three!" I held out two fingers; his hand remained in a fist. "Ha! Rock beats scissors!" Just as I was about to offer best two out of three, Race plopped onto the ground. He was shirtless and wearing boxer shorts with the word "Sex" on the front and "Fiend" on the back. By the time I shook myself out of my trance, he was in the bathroom with door closed behind him.

Sighing, I leaned over Skittery. "Hey, Skittery? It's time to wake up."

No response.

I tapped him lightly. Then shook him. His hand grabbed me in a tight grip. "Jesus!"

"What are you doing?" He asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I yanked out of his grasp. "I was trying to wake you up," I explained as I rubbed my wrist. When I looked at him again, I saw the red bandana still in his possession.

"What are you looking at?" he snarled. Before I replied, he shoved the bandana under his mattress and rolled out of bed, glaring at me the whole time.

"Race is already in the bathroom," I informed him.

His fist smashed down onto the night stand. "Fucking perfect," he muttered.

I sat down on my bunk and did everything in my power to avoid eye contact with him. When the bathroom door reopened, I didn't even try to beat him inside.

"Glad to see you're still in one piece," a very bemused and _very_ hot, Race stated as he rummaged through his suitcase.

"Do...do they have to do like...background checks on people before putting them on these shows."

He shrugged. "Sure they do, But they like to use people like him. You know, someone to cause conflict. They aren't going let you get killed or anything," he added when he caught my worried expression. He pulled a T-shirt over his head and reached for the remote. "Hey! What's this?" He lifted up the bracelet.

"I meant to give that back to Becca last night. It fell during the introductions," I explained taking it from him. "Didn't she say she was going to be on that balcony out there?"

"I don't remember. Why?"

"Well, I went to bring it to her, but she wasn't out there..."

"Maybe she found a better place to sketch." Without another word, he turned on the television.

* * *

_8:45am PST_

I poked absently at the half-eaten pancakes, sausage, and eggs which were lying on my plate. Again we were assembled at the table, cameras making sure not to miss a moment. Most of us had actually gotten dressed before coming downstairs. However, Jan had opted to wear her nightgown. Teal. I began to ponder whether she owned clothes in any other color. Cherry had made an entrance in boxer shorts (if they can even be considered _that_) and a baby tee with the Playboy Bunny symbol on it. Both articles of clothing did little to cover her body. It made me think of Kelly LeBrock's first outfit in _Weird Science_. Both Bumlets and Smartass had skipped breakfast and were lying outside near the pool working on their tans.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to play with your food?" Race teased. He finished off the last of his coffee and nudged me. "What do you say we look around this place a little more? You still haven't seen most of the rooms."

"Hey! No forming alliances at the breakfast table!"

"This isn't 'Survivor,' Dutchy," Specs pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"You never know! They may try and sabotage the rest of us."

"You guys would make a really cute couple."

All other conversations stopped as the entire table turned to stare at Mayfly. I wasn't really surprised by her observation. It was the kind of thing I'd come to expect from her.

"I mean it! I think ya'll were made for each other."

"All we're doing it bickering," Specs said with raised eyebrows.

"See? Lovers quarrels already!" There was a collective groan. "What? I was just saying..." She trailed off with a shrug.

"C'mon!" Race practically whined with a tug on my arm.

"Hold on." I pulled the bracelet from my pocket. "Becca, I found this on the floor last night." She accepted the item wordlessly. Not so much as a "Thanks." "Uh, I tried to find you on the balcony. Where were you?"

She stared intensely at me the way one stares at an object under a microscope. I'm not too proud to admit it made me squirm a bit. After Skittery, she scared me the most. "Where was I?" she repeated with almost no emotion. "Well, where are any of us really? We are all just tiny specks of dirt in this garden of the universe. Insignificant. Does it really matter?"

"Um..." How do you respond to something like that?

"Ok, I have a new rule," Swinger interjected. "Becca isn't allowed to be philosophical until after breakfast." The rest of us seemed to unanimously agree to this. Well, except for Skittery, who continued to brood, and Jan who sat there trying to figure out what Becca had just said. I hoped she didn't sprain anything.

"You two enjoy yourselves!" Cherry called out as Race dragged me from the room with a slight smirk. "Don't do anything I'd do!"

"Isn't this place great?"

I shrugged indifferently. So far, we'd seen the east wing which consisted of the game room, library, and the ballroom downstairs, and many rooms (including the girls' rooms) upstairs. "I think it's a bit too big for my taste."

"Too big? I didn't think there was such a thing."

"Well, if there were a lot of people, I guess a big house would be nice. But when it's this big with only a few people, it makes me feel like I'm in 'Clue' or something."

"Well, if a dead body _does_ arise, my bets would be on Skittery. In the dining room. With the knife."

I shivered slightly. "Even as a joke, that's frightening."

An awkward silence passed as we walked downstairs to the west wing. "So you want to be a writer?"

That question shouldn't have made me blush. After all, there's no shame in that. But I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Yeah."

"What kind of stuff do you want to write?"

"I don't know right now. That's the main problem. I have all of these ideas, but I have trouble expanding on them." We peeked into a room which appeared to be a greenhouse.

"What kind of things do you read?"

"I'll read almost anything."

He grinned. "_Baby-Sitters Club_?"

"Hey, the early books were very moving." I glanced at him. "I was kidding, you know."

"One would hope so. Have you read the _Lord of the Rings_ books?"

"Of course."

He chuckled. "So do you dress up in weird costumes and speak elvish?"

I made a face. "I'm not _that_ pathetic."

"Well do you write your own little stories about the characters?" The heat in my face rose. "Ha! You do, don't you? You write that...what's it called? Fanatic Fiction?"

"Fan Fiction," I corrected. "I _used_ to. Just a few Pippin and Merry slash stories. I mean, I don't have a problem or anything."

"Admitting it is the first step."

We came to a door at the end of the hall. "This is the last room."

Inside, we found Smartass and Jack seated on a sofa. They appeared to be getting very comfortable with each other. Jack looked up as the door opened. "Hey guys. How did you enjoy exploring the house?"

"It's a very nice place," I commented.

Smartass was glaring at both of us. "Are you sure you saw all of it? Perhaps you should go check."

Race plopped down on the chair next to Jack. "Isn't this cheating?"

"I don't recall there being any rules. Were there any rules, Jack?" Her well manicured finger was trailing along the base of his ear.

"Only rule is that there are no rules." He glanced at his watch and stood. "I have to go meet Medda. I'll see you all soon. Remember to be by the pool at noon."

As soon as he had left, Smartass turned ferociously on both of us. "You ass wipes! I was actually getting somewhere with him! And of course, you had to come and ruin it!"

"It wasn't exactly planned," I explained.

"Sure," she snorted, "you just happened to get to this room as soon as he and I were alone. It's not fair!" She pouted her full lips.

Race smirked. "Well, the only rule is that there are no rules."

If looks could kill, Race would have been as good as dead. "If you get in my way," she spoke slowly, apparently choosing her words carefully, "you will be sorry." She stood and walked to the door. "Don't think that is an empty threat. Just remember who I am and who my father is."

"Hey Smartass," Race called, unaffected by her threat, "just to let you know, pouting like that can cause wrinkles."

Her nostrils flared and she stomped out, head held high, and slammed the door behind her.

"You know," I said after a moment, "I think I disagree with you. It would probably be Smartass, in the lounge, with the rope."

* * *

_12:10 pm PST_

I'm a fairly self-conscious person. I mean, like Charlie in _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_, I preferred to spend dances standing in the corner observing, rather than participating. So why the hell was I standing in swim trunks, not only exposing myself to twelve strangers, but to an entire community of reality television watchers?

"Hey Blink?" Jack called. "Are you coming in?"

Oh. Right.

Jack, Swinger, Mayfly, Jan, Dutchy, Specs, and Race were already in. Smartass was explaining how much her swimsuit had cost to Cherry, who looked as though she couldn't care less. Her red string bikini seemed to barely be holding on. Kind of like the J-Lo dress. Both of them sat with only their legs in the water. Bumlets sat in what seemed to be a Speedo doing everything in his power to make Jack notice him. Skittery was on the far side of the pool watching everyone the way an owl watches its prey.

I stuck a toe in the water to test it. Seemed warm enough.

"Don't be a wuss, Blink!"

"Thanks for the encouragement, Mayfly." Carefully, I dove into the water.

"Now was that so hard?" Jack asked good-naturedly. My God, he had a gorgeous smile!

"Well!" I winced. How I hated that voice. We all turned and there sat Medda. "You all seem to be having fun. However, this is a competition. I think, Jack, we should see your suitors have a contest. What do you suggest?"

"Well, how about a race?"

"A race?" asked Specs. "Isn's that a bit...basic? I mean for a reality tv show."

"Did you have something else in mind?" Jack mused.

"If it's a race, count me out," Cherry said. "I've already washed and dried my hair. It's perfect."

"Well, the winner gets to have a private dinner with me tonight."

Cherry dove into the pool. In fact, that comment suddenly made everyone enthusiastic. Even Skittery. He almost smiled.

Soon Skittery, Race, and myself were lined up along one end of the pool for the first heat. "First one to swim to this side and back wins," Jack called from across the pool. "On your mark. Get set. GO!" All three of us shot off through the water. I made it to the other side first with Skittery close behind. As soon as I had pushed off of the wall, I felt a hand grab me and shove me under. I floundered about before reaching the surface and sputtering. Skittery had just reached the other side.

"You ok?" Race slapped my back to help the coughing.

"I think Skittery pushed me under."

"Probably," he nodded. No one else had seemed to notice. Cherry, Mayfly, and Jan were getting in for the next heat. Race grabbed my arm to guide me out. "Come on and sit."

He and I sat on two pool chairs and watched the rest of the competition. Well, Race did. I just leaned back and stared at the sky. Not that I was a sore loser, but I couldn't bring myself to watch. I couldn't believe what I had gotten myself into. I mean, sure healthy competition is fine. But threats from Smartass? Bunking with a walking time bomb? And what prize do I receive should I win? The start of a relationship which may or may not flourish. Was it really worth it?

Skittery was declared the winner. Surprise, surprise. A small wave of applause (along with some grunts and scowls) rippled through the crowd of us.

"Well, on the bright side," Dutchy said quietly nudging me, "that's one less psycho at the table tonight." Even I had to smile at that.

"I think that competition was unfair," Cherry pouted. "Some of us aren't as athletic as others."

"What do you suggest?" Jack asked with a mischievous grin.

"Well...what will I get if I skinny dip?"

Bumlets narrowed his eyes. "You don't have the guts," he challenged. Without another word, Cherry had pulled the string of her top and allowed it to drop into the water. Bumlets followed suit.

Jack seemed _very_ pleased. "Any other takers?"

I glanced around seeing almost everyone else stripping down. Taking a deep breath, I lowered my trunks as well. That's right. I succumbed to peer pressure. I'm not exactly proud of myself either.

Swinger stayed near the wall, still wearing her very modest one-piece. "I'll pass, thank you."

"Aw, are you sure?" Jack asked with a puppy dog face.

She raised an eyebrow. "Positive."

"Well, Swinger, I admire your courage," Smartass smirked as she slipped off the bottom half of her bikini. After tossing them to the side she swum toward Jack, calling over her shoulder, "It was nice knowing you!"

* * *

_5:30 pm PST_

"That son of a bitch," Smartass grumbled

The group, minus Jack and Skittery, were seated once again in the dining room. Smartass (being...well...Smartass) had begun her complaining since we were seated. To be fair, though, I'm sure most of us were thinking the same thing.

"I mean, he's just some lowlife with absolutely no class!"

"Heaven knows you were just exuding class today," Mayfly replied mockingly. "I mean, stripping down on live television to get a guy? I'll bet your father would be proud."

"Oh bloody fuck off already!"

"Personally," Race interfered, "I was surprised in Blink."

I looked up "Me? Why me?"

"Because you actually dropped your trunks."

"You did too!"

He shrugged. "True. But I have no shame. You, on the other hand, just don't seem like the kind of person who would stoop to that level."

I slid down in my chair. It was true. I'm not the kind of person who is spontaneous like that. Hell, I get uncomfortable peeing in a public restroom! "Gee, thanks," I murmured.

An awkward silence seemed to settle over the room. Without Jack, there was no reason to clamor over each other trying to impress him. And it's not like we were all "friends" really. We were in competition with each other. Tomorrow evening was the first elimination, and so far no one knew exactly where they stood.

Mayfly was staring off into space, but her head was bobbing to an unknown beat and she was tapping her spoon against the table in a sporadic rhythm. "Oooooh," she crooned, getting everyone's attention, "I have a monkey named Sal, named Sal-"

"Could you please shut up?" Specs asked a bit less than politely. "You're making my head hurt."

She stared at him. "I'll make your face hurt," shot back smugly

"You are _so_ juvenile."

"Your mom is juvenile."

"Now why would you name your monkey Sal?" Leave it to Jan to contemplate something like that.

"I think Sal is a nice name," I said. "What would you name your monkey if you had one?"

Most everyone tried not to laugh. Jan, however, chewed her bottom lip seriously. Finally she arrived at an answer. "I'd name him Orlando."

"After the city?"

"No! After Orlando Bloom! Like, duh! He's so totally hot! I am in love with him"

"And what better way to show your affection than by naming an animal after him?" Cherry snorted.

I smiled a little bit. It was nice to have loosened up.

* * *

It hasn't been _that_ long since I updated, has it :ducks fromtomatoes being thrown: Ok, ok! Sorry! Stuff has just been...well...crazy for lack of a better word. The good news is I've decided to put "The Hazards of Being a Stage Manager" on hiatus for a while. I guess that's not really "good news", but it does give me more time to focus on this story. I am going to post one more chapter before I officially put it on the side (if I can finish even that). Also, the next chapter will probably be considerably shorter. It was either that or tack it on to the end of this chapter. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If not...uh...sorry... 


	5. July 20, 4:00pm to 7:00pm

Disney owns _Newsies_...for now. All OC's are the sole property of their awesome creators. I own the idea of "The Best of Both Worlds" tv show.

* * *

_Tuesday, July 20_

_4:00pm PST_

Nothing like the first elimination to bring a group down. The good thing about it, though, was that we basically had the day off. Sure a couple of cameramen were loitering around, but not enough to make me feel as self-conscious as I usually had. Still, I, along with most of the others, was a bit on edge anyway. This early in the game, it was hard to tell just where everyone stood.

Race had disappeared without a word. Honestly, I felt a bit insulted. So far I had become closer to him than I had to anyone else. I had figured we would stick this ordeal out together. Until one of us got eliminated at least. His absence left Skittery and I alone in the room. The resident psycho showed no signs of leaving, and I obviously didn't feel very safe being alone with him. Since the start of the show, I had caught him glaring at me at least twelve times and witnessed him surveying the butcher knives in the kitchen.

I skulked around the rest of the mansion, stopping every so often to admire a painting. I paused as I passed one of the girls' rooms. Pressing my ear to the door, I could hear a soft flow of music mixed with the rustling of pages.

"Come in," I heard after knocking. I entered to find Lute sitting Indian-style on her bed, staring intently at the sheets in front of her. Pursing her lips, she set them against the mouthpiece of what looked like a flute. Her fingers flowed across the keys. Every so often a squeak came out, but all in all it sounded very nice. After finishing, she began thumbing through a pile of sheet music which sat next to her. "Hey! What's up?"

"Not much really." I sat on a nearby bed. "I was too scared to be alone in my room with Skittery," she nodded in understanding, "so I was just walking around. Where're the others?"

"Well, Mayfly went off somewhere with Jack. Smartass was sitting here just pouting, then complained about me practicing. She stalked off somewhere about ten minutes ago." She explained with an indifferent shrug. She triumphantly pulled a sheet from the pile and placed it on the stand before her.

"You play the flute very well."

"Oh thanks," she said, flashing a smile, "but it's not a flute; it's a piccolo. Not that much of a difference, except it's smaller and it's an octave above a flute." I nodded, not completely understanding. "I play flute also, but this has a higher pitch, thus it annoys Smartass more," she continued with a smirk.

"Are you nervous about tonight?"

She shrugged. "Whatever happens, happens. I can't really do anything now." She replaced the piccolo to her mouth but then lowered it again meeting my gaze. "Why? Are you okay?"

I sighed. "Well...I don't know. I feel a little...ashamed. I mean about yesterday. I never pictured myself as the kind who would strip to win a competition."

"Are you still thinking about what Race said last night?"

I hesitated slightly. "Well, sorta."

She chuckled. "You know he was just kidding, don't you? He didn't mean anything by it. Nothing malicious anyway."

"But he was right!" I flopped back onto the bed frustrated. "I...I mean...how were you able to do it? I mean, how could you keep yourself from not joining in? What if that gets you eliminated?"

"Like I said: What happens, happens. If I don't get chosen because of who I am, so be it." Seeing my crestfallen expression, she continued. "But, Blink, that's just what works for me. You just need to do what works for you. I don't think any less of you for doing it or anything."

"Well, _I_ think less of me."

"Don't. You're nowhere near as bad as some of those people."

I smiled slightly thinking about the behaviors I had witnessed from Skittery and Smartass. "That's true."

She came to sit next to me. "Feeling better?" I nodded. "I'm glad to hear."

I sat up. "I keep expecting to hear some cheesy music, like on 'Full House' or something."

"Well if this is 'Full House' then we have to hug. I think that's a rule or something. I mean, what's a cheesy pep talk without a hug?" With that she flung her arms tightly around my torso.

"Ok..can't breath now..."I squeaked out. She gave me a final pat on the back before returning to her own bed. "I really do respect you, you know," I told her.

"Thanks." She resumed her position, piccolo in hand, and continued as I sat contemplating.

* * *

_7:00pm PST_

We all assembled uncomfortably in the library; same outfits, same positions. The gifts remained on the tables and, with the exception of the somewhat wilted dahlia, looked exactly the same as they had before. "Psst! Blink!" Race whispered. "I'm taking bets on who's getting eliminated. You in?"

"No. Maybe next time." I paused. "Who's winning so far?"

"Well, so far Skittery, though I have a feeling that is more of wishful thinking. Smartass is going for Lute."

I was about to comment, but was cut off by that fake Swedish accent I'd come to hate. "Welcome back! It's been a productive couple of days and we have reached our first elimination round. Jack will choose two of the gifts and return them to their owners. Those two people must immediately return to their rooms, pack their bags and leave the house. The person who remains at the end of all the eliminations will be the winner of the competition."

Yeah, we knew that. Get on with it already!

"Jack, have you made you decision?" We all looked on intently.

"Yes, I have." I swear, my heart was pounding out of my chest. " It was a hard choice. Of course every one of you have something which attracts me." He caught my eye and winked. I bit my lip. Hard. "However," he continued, "I felt I had trouble connecting to two of you as well as I did the others." Slowly he made his way to the table on the right, reaching for one of the gifts. "My first elimination is...Dominic," he concluded with the corresponding gift in hand.

I caught Bumlets' reaction out of the corner of my eye. Lips pursed and eyebrows raised, he nodded slowly and rose to his feet. "That's ok. I'm fine. I can do better anyway," he spouted as he reclaimed the sex toy. I half expected him to bitch smack Jack.. Instead, he threw a withering look at the rest of us before making a dramatic exit. I shot a look at Race who shrugged in return.

Jack was running his hands slowly over the gifts on the left table. "My second elimination," he trailed off as he grasped a flower, "is Lute."

Now _there_ was a surprise. I figured Jan would be eliminated before Lute. Smartass was looking particularly smug and I'm positive I heard Race curse softly. Lute, however, seemed perfectly calm. She shrugged indifferently and rose to accept her gift. "Guess it just wasn't my time." Unlike Bumlets, she didn't leave immediately, but instead stayed to give everyone good-bye hugs.

"Sorry to see you go," I whispered.

"Hey, it's ok. I don't think it was really for me anyway. Maybe you'll have a better shot."

"Nah. I think I'm going next."

She shook her head. "Don't be to sure. You underestimate yourself." She kissed my cheek and went to say good-bye to Dutchy. I walked toward Race who was begrudgingly handing Smartass a few bills.

"There!" he muttered. "Twenty-five dollars."

"Thank you," she replied with a coy smile.

Skittery was leaning inconspicuously in the doorway studying the rest of us.

Medda was busy giving some kind of closing remarks, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was too busy assessing the situation.

Good news: I wasn't leaving.

Bad news: Skittery wasn't leaving.

Shit.

* * *

Yeah. That was super short. Super, super short. Especially compared to my previous chapters. Not to mention it was extremely cheesy. Though I guess that's befitting for a reality tv show. Basically this chapter was a "move-along" chapter. I promise a better one next time! 


	6. July 21, 9:00am to 2:00pm

_Wednesday July 21_

_9:00am PST_

"Time to rise and shine," a voice buzzed near my ear like a mosquito. Instinctively, my hand flew out to rid myself of the little bugger, but I only succeeded in slamming my hand against the side of the bed. "Whoa, you're frisky first thing in the morning, ain't you?" the same voice asked with a tone of amusement.

I groggily lifted my head and blinked my eyes, trying to focus on the face floating in front of mine. "Race, what's with the wake-up call?" I groaned. "It's not 7:30 is it?"

"Nope, it's 9:00am."

"What?" I shot up as I had two mornings before. This time, though, Racetrack was prepared and stopped my forehead with his hand before I could smack it against the top bed. "Aren't we supposed to be down stairs for breakfast or something?"

"They're letting us sleep in this morning."

I threw my blanket off and sat on the side of my bed, feet flat on the floor. "I'm not sure if I should be grateful for the rest or nervous that they're preparing us for something big."

"Be scared, Blink. Be very scared!" he bellowed in a low voice. What a dork. A hot dork, that is.

I noticed that the other bed was empty and the door to the bathroom was ajar. "Where is…uh…" I pointed to the bed, afraid that even saying his name would make him appear, like Beetlejuice.

Race laughed. "Mr. Sunshine left about an hour ago. I imagine at this point he's found some poor little kitten to drown in the pool."

"That's awful even as a joke!"

"Who's joking?"

I shook my head trying to get the image of a poor little kitten submerged in water clawing at Skittery's face out of my head. Well, just the part with the kitten in water; the part with the kitten scratching his face was fine. "I didn't tell you this, but a couple of nights ago I woke up and saw him holding Jack's red bandana."

"Hm…maybe he's using it in some crazy voodoo ritual?" he suggested.

"Now that you mention it, he does seem like the kind of guy who would be into that kind of stuff," I said, making a mental note to keep track of all my personal things. Who knows what he'd do if he got his hands on a voodoo doll of me?

I stood, stretching my arms above my head. My muscles were feeling a bit sore and I could hear my joints popping as I bent down to touch the floor. I was pleased to see that, though I had only gone to three yoga classes the month before (dragged by Mush), I still had some flexibility left in me. As I let my head dangle, I caught Racetrack's face between my legs. Not that his face was actually between my legs, because I realize how dirty that sounds, but I could see his face as I peered between my legs. His eyebrows lifted as he focused on my rear end and I am almost positive I saw him lick his lips.

"Are you enjoying staring at my ass?" I asked as I stood up straight. I looked over my shoulder and saw that he was at least feigning embarrassment.

"Hey, I'm a warm-blooded gay man. Can you blame me?"

I snorted, feeling both flattered and bashful by his apparent interest. "Mind if I take a shower or were you going to?"

"Well, we could kill two birds with one stone…" he trailed off. My face reddened, my tongue unable to form any words. "I'm kidding, Blink," he said. "The shower is all yours."

"Thanks," I muttered, high-tailing it to the bathroom. I had just stripped off my boxers when Race knocked on the door and told me, "I'm going to head down. I'll see you there?"

"Yeah…see you there," I said blushing. Why the fuck was I blushing? All I did was agree to meet him down stairs. Christ, I needed a shower!

As the cold water sprayed against me, I felt the blush leaving my body and my heart beat slow to a normal pace. Damn that vertically-challenged Italian boy!

* * *

I managed to catch the tail end of breakfast, which meant that by the time I got down to the table there was little more than a Danish and some slices of cantaloupe left. Racetrack was currently finishing off his eggs while Mayfly and Specs seemed to be having a heated discussion involving Harry Potter. Jan was trying in vain to apply make-up, using the stainless steel vase as a mirror and Dutchy was pushing remaining bits of bacon around on his plate. None of the others were in sight.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Mayfly chirped brightly before turning back to Specs. "How can you say that the Harry Potter series is overrated?"

Specs rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not saying they're awful, but really there are far better fantasy series that don't get half the respect."

"These books got kids reading again!"

"The book that got me reading again was Cosmopolitan," Jan interjected.

"That's a magazine," Racetrack said with a laugh.

"Well, it's got words in it!" Jan pointed out with a pout.

"Jan, do you read anything without pictures?" Dutchy asked.

Is it sad that this had become a normal conversation?

"Where's everyone else?" I asked as poured myself a heaping cup of coffee.

"Skittery is anyone's guess," Specs answered, checking each person off on a finger. "Cherry, I think, just doesn't eat unless she's on the brink of starvation. Becca grabbed an apple and left. Smartass and Jack were here about half an hour ago."

"She was basically molesting him," Mayfly put in. She shook her head in dismay. "Poor guy."

"Poor guy?" Dutchy laughed. "He didn't seem too put off by it considering the two slipped away to play a game of billiards."

"What's on the schedule for today?" I asked. I was hoping we'd have some free time before we were forced to perform degrading acts that would be aired on television for all to see.

"We're free to do what we want until noon," Mayfly told me. "Then we're going out to lunch somewhere. They said to be sure to wear casual clothing."

"So long as we're staying out of the pool this time, I think I'll be fine." I bit off a chunk of my Danish. "So how is the room now that Swinger's gone?" I asked Mayfly as I chewed.

"God, cover your mouth," Specs said with a grimace.

Mayfly rolled her eyes and let out a small groan. "Smartass is pretty much insufferable. She keeps going on about how she _knew_ Swinger was going to go and gloating about how she and Jack are 'kindred spirits' since they have similarly sized bank accounts."

"Isn't that bank account her daddy's?" Racetrack asked.

Maylfy snickered. "You'd think a rich bitch such as herself wouldn't need to go on a reality show to find a rich bachelor. Unless…" she trailed off, a smile playing on her lips.

"Unless what?" I asked.

She smirked. "I bet she's the screw-up of her prep school buddies! You know, the one who's an embarrassment to her family and friends and soils their name."

"You take that back!" a voice shrilled. We looked up to see Smartass standing in the doorway. Her eyes were ablaze, nostrils flared. "How dare you…you...plebian!"

Maybe it was because she was so mad it was almost cartoon-ish, complete with steam blowing from her ears. Maybe it was because she had actually just used the term "plebian" in an effort to insult someone. Maybe it was just because we were all in a good mood from being able to sleep in. Whatever the reason, the group of us sitting there just started laughing.

"Did…did you really just…call me a 'plebian'?" Mayfly asked between gasps. "Wow! That's a new one!"

"Oh, you're going to laugh at me?" Smartass snarled.

"Going to?" Race asked. "We _are_ laughing at you, sweetie."

"Well, we'll just see who has the last laugh," she huffed before turning on her heel and stalking out of the room.

"So, Blinky-boy!" Mayfly called to me. "What say I educate you a bit more in the ways of le musical theater today?"

"Do we have to?" I groaned

"Well, no, we don't _have_ to. I mean, it's not as though I'm going to tie you down to a chair and force feed Stephen Sondheim to you."

"Ooo, sounds kinky," Cherry said as she entered in a pair of Daisy Dukes and a sleeveless button-up shirt, tied at the waist. Her hair was in pigtail braids and she was wearing a pair of calf-high red cowboy boots and a matching cowboy hat. "Can I be next?"

"Um…I don't swing that way," Mayfly said, for the first time looking a bit flustered. "What's with the Annie Oakley get up?"

"Aha!" Cherry said as she slid into a seat. "Have I ever told you that I am much like a boy scout?"

"No, I don't think that the boy scouts allow shorts _that_ tiny," Racetrack said with a snicker.

Cherry scowled. "No, I meant that I am always prepared."

"Prepared? For square dancing?"

"Nope." She took off her cowboy hat, fanning herself with it. "I have it on good authority that we will be going horseback riding today."

"Oh! Horsies!" Jan squealed.

"Any of you ever ridden a horse?" Cherry asked, looking around the table. When none of us responded she laughed. "Didn't think so."

"Let me guess," Dutchy interjected, "you're a world class horse riding champion?"

"Not exactly. I _do_, however, hold the record for mechanical bull riding at the Silver Star Bar!" She beamed.

"Um…whoop-de-doo?" I said, not sure if that was much of an achievement.

"Oh, you scoff now," she said wagging a finger at me, "but let's see if you're still laughing when you're clinging to the reins for your dear life!"

"It's a horseback ride, not the rodeo," Specs told her. "I'm pretty sure we're not going to be in any danger."

"Whatever you say." Cherry stood, placing her cowboy hat back on her head. "Yippie-kay-yay, kiddies!" she called out to us as she left.

* * *

_12:00pm PST_

"How the hell did you manage to find teal cowboy boots?" Mayfly asked Jan incredulously. As always, the intelligently challenged young woman was clad in an almost entirely teal outfit. Her tank top (teal) was covered in rhinestones, reading "Cowgirl!" with a tiny cowboy hat resting atop the "C." Her jeans (not teal) had rhinestones running down the seams. The aforementioned boots (definitely teal) were leather and the tops had fringe hanging down. Thankfully, she did not have a matching teal cowboy hat.

Word had spread quickly about the supposed horseback riding trip, though the rest of us were dressed in simple casual clothing, mostly jeans and T-shirts. Smartass, of course, was decked out in a complete riding uniform. "I was a champion rider back home," she informed us. Surprise, surprise.

Becca, it seemed, had been the only one to miss the memo. She was wearing a long black skirt, a silver kimono top, and black ballet flats. From the look on her face, she wasn't looking forward to riding a horse in a skirt. "Hey," Cherry said to her, "if you fall off and flash him it may score you points."

"Wishing you had thought of it?" Race asked.

Cherry laughed. "Like he hasn't seen _my_ goods already."

"I don't think twin mounds of silicon can really be considered 'goods.'"

"Fuck you, Smartass!"

"Horsies!" Jan squealed for the hundredth time in the past hour. The squabbling stopped as we turned to look out the window. Sure enough, there were ten horses lined up along side a stable, saddled up and ready for riding.

The limo pulled to a stop and we piled out, making our way over to where Medda stood. When I saw her outfit, I immediately retracted every mental slur I had made about Jan's outfit. She was wearing a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt that fell almost to the ground. Beneath the hem I could see the toes of two leather boots peeking out. Her hair was pulled back under a cowboy hat and in her hands she held leather gloves. Did I mention that the entire outfit was bright pink? Medda had clearly out done every single one of us in her cotton candy ensemble.

"Hello!" she greeted us in that damned faux Swedish accent. "I hope you all have tight grips, because today you will be accompanying Jack on a horseback ride for a picnic lunch!"

At that, a horse galloped out of the stable. Jack, sitting on top, ripped his cowboy hat off his head and waved it in the air as he and the horse came to a stop in front of us. He dismounted from the horse, giving it a pat on the nose, before turning to us. "In case you couldn't tell, riding is one of my passions, so if you're looking to get with me you're going to have to be able to keep up. You think you can do that?"

"Yes!" we all chorused like the good little sheep we were.

Jack smiled impishly. "We'll see! Go on and get your horse!"

It was a mad rush as we all made our way to the horses, though I'm pretty sure the horses were all the same, so no one was going to end up with the "better" or "worse" horse. As it turned out, we had all been assigned a horse already.

"Blink," one of the cowhands said, leading a brown horse over to me, "you'll be riding Snickerdoodle."

"Good girl," I said tentatively patting his nose.

"It's a boy," the cow hand told me.

"Ah." I made a mental note. The last thing I needed to do was offend my horse. I looked into Snickerdoodle's eyes, trying to convey to him that I was a friend and hoping he would give me his full cooperation. I read somewhere that when riding a horse one must first look the creature squarely in the eye to show him who is boss. If doing this intimidated Snickerdoodle, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked downright bored with the entire ordeal.

The cow hand helped me get up on Snickerdoodle, instructing me where to place my feet and how to hold on. As I peered down, I realized I was much higher than I had expected to be. If I were to fall off I'd _definitely_ be hurt.

As I was pondering this, the cow hand smacked the ass of my horse, causing it to squeal and begin trotting. I let out a similar, though probably girlier, squeal as I realized the massive animal was moving. I heard snickering from nearby and spotted Racetrack and Dutchy on their horses sharing a laugh at my expense.

"It's just a horse, Blink," Dutchy told me as if I didn't already know that.

"I've never ridden. Give me a break."

Turning, I saw Mayfly and Jan looking equally delighted and frightened as their horses took off to catch up with the rest of us. Becca had managed to get on her horse, but she looked positively livid, and Specs and Skittery were still trying to get on their horses. Both Cherry and Smartass had taken to riding like pros and were already a bit ahead of everyone else with Jack.

"Come on, guys," Race said as he stared at the trio, "we can't let those girls win this thing." He tapped the heels of his feet against the side of his horse and took off ahead. Dutchy and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed suit. This time when Snickerdoodle took off I managed to hold in my squeal.

As I slid into a place next to Cherry, slightly behind Jack, I tugged on the reins, slowing Snickerdoodle down to a trot. "Nice to see you again, Blink!" Jack called to me over his shoulder. When he waved he threw me a charming smile that I'm sure had been well practiced. "You ride much?"

"First time," I confessed.

"Well, hold on! I'd hate to lose you!"

"Whoa, this fellah is fast!" Mayfly was coming up behind us on her horse. She bit her lip as she attempted to steer the animal to follow us.

"God, my thighs are chaffing," Becca groaned.

"Really didn't need to know that, Becca," Dutchy said.

"_My_ thighs are just fine," Cherry told Becca with a smirk. "Maybe you're not used to a body being between your legs."

"Probably not as used to it as you are," Becca muttered as Cherry rode up ahead. I snorted and for the first time since I had gotten there I saw Becca smile.

"You could try side saddle," I suggested, trying to be helpful.

She tightened her grip on the reins. "I'm having enough trouble holding on as it is. I'd rather end up with red thighs than snapped spine or something."

"Uh-oh, Blink! I think Buttercup here is checking out your horse!" I turned and saw Racetrack's horse nudging Snickerdoodle's behind with its nose. Snickerdoodle turned and whinnied in response, obviously not enjoying the contact.

"Oh my…Guys, look at Skittery!" Mayfly giggled, pointing to the psycho who was still a good distance behind us. Skittery was certainly _not_ an experienced rider. He was leaned forward over his horse, practically holding the creature's necking for dear life. He looked absolutely terrified and I would have felt bad for laughing at him had it not been, well, _him_!

He finally managed to catch up with the rest of the group and eased his grip on the horse. He glared at me as though this were all somehow _my_ fault and tried not to show any sign that I was amused by his horse fright. The last thing we needed to do was egg him on.

"Skittery, are you scared of a little horsie?" Race mocked.

"Shove it!" the resident sociopath snapped. "I've never ridden before."

"And you're scared. Admit it, you were wetting your pants back there!"

"I said shut the fuck up!"

"Race, seriously, just shut up," Dutchy interjected. Even he looked slightly worried.

I could tell that Racetrack really, _really_ wanted to say more, but he somehow managed to bite it back, allowing the rest of the ride to be kind of peaceful.

* * *

_12:30pm PST_

The picnic turned out to be a bit more high scale than a simple blanket on the ground and potato salad. Set up was a large, round table, with a red gingham table cloth. In the center was a bucket with ice and I could see the neck of a bottle—likely champagne—sticking out. Nearby was a large truck that probably contained a gourmet lunch. We all managed to dismount with no injuries and took seats at the table. Of course, many of us scrambled to sit beside Jack. I was far to tired to deal with claws scratching my eyes out—and I'm not just talking about the women! Instead, I grabbed the first seat I could and watched the battle unfold.

Both Cherry and Skittery managed to slide into the chair to Jack's left at the same time. The two glared at each other and each tried to push to other to the ground. It was like a game of musical chairs and I was silently hoping Skittery would win. If he was sitting there it meant he would _not_ be sitting by me. With a final push, he managed to eject Cherry from the seat, though she landed on Jack's lap. She grinned up at him. "Comfy?"

Jack smiled like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, ma'am, I am. Unfortunately, I don't think we will be able to eat much lunch in this position."

Cherry giggled and slowly stood. "Maybe we can finish this privately…later," she cooed as she took the seat next to me.

To Jack's right, Smartass was about to sit in the chair when it was completely pulled out from under her by Racetrack. She fell to the ground with a soft thud and quickly scrambled to her feet. Racetrack replaced the chair and sat in it himself. "If my outfit has dirt on it, you can expect my dry cleaning bill," she hissed as she took the seat right next to Racetrack.

With the champagne poured and the food served, Jack asked, "So are you all enjoying yourselves so far?"

"Yes," Smartass said, cutting in before anyone else. "Thank you so much for all of this. It's beautiful," she gushed, batting her eyes his way.

On the other side of me Mayfly began coughing, though it sounded suspiciously like she was saying "suck-up!"

"Your home is impressive," Specs said as he sipped his champagne. "When was it built, out of curiosity?"

"The manor dates back to the late 1800's," Jack informed him.

"The library is huge! I found some first editions there. I'd love to discuss them with you."

"Yawn city," Cherry murmured to me.

"I'm not much of a reader," Jack admitted. "I just like having the books there for ambience."

"Reading is for people who aren't imaginative enough to find better things to do," Cherry stated. "I think it's a crime to have those beautiful couches in there and to simply read on them."

"Oh, what a surprise! The wannabe-hooker doesn't like to read," Racetrack interjected.

"I am _not_ a wannabe-hooker!"

"She's right, Race," Specs said. "She's just a hooker, plain and simple."

"I guess you'd know all about hookers, Specs, considering they're the only ones willing to screw you," Smartass chimed in.

"This is better than cable!" I whispered to Mayfly as I watched the scene unfold before me.

"Blink, this will eventually _become_ cable. Let's not forget the ever present camera men," she reminded me.

"Wow. You know whenever I watched a reality show, I thought that they staged those dramatic moments and edited them to look worse than they actually were. Who knew it was all so real?"

By this time both Dutchy and Smartass were standing and yelling at one another. I had completely tuned out, so I wasn't quite sure what the fight was about. I think I heard the words "crack head," "smelly pussy," and "testicles," but I wasn't really listening anymore.

* * *

_2:00pm PST_

The gourmet lunch had actually been wonderful, minus the fight that lasted almost a full half-hour. Almost everyone became involved, save Mayfly and myself, who sat back and watched in amusement, and Jan, who simply didn't know what anyone was talking about. Jack, of course, stayed out of it, but he also didn't attempt to intervene either. Just when I thought it was going to come to blows, Skittery, who had remained eerily silent through the entire ordeal, shot up and the action froze. No one, not even Smartass and Racetrack, really wanted to have to deal with Skittery, especially not when he was currently holding a rather sharp knife. After that, the lunch continued with only minor bickering.

The limo met us at the lunch site saving us from a horseback ride back to the stables. All of us, Jack included, managed to squeeze into the stretch limo. It was tighter than it had been on the way up, but seeing as I had ended up between Racetrack and Jack, I wasn't in any position to really complain.

"Well, that was an _interesting_ lunch," Jack said, leaning back in his seat. "I'm glad to see that so many of you are…uh…so passionate."

"That's a nicer word for 'bitchy.'" Racetrack muttered to Smartass. She smacked his arm in return, but continued to smile dazzlingly at Jack.

"Hey, how about we stop for a drink?" Jack suggested. "There's a great little bar on the outskirts of town."

"I could go for a drink," Racetrack proclaimed.

"Woo-hoo! Drunken orgy tonight!" Dutchy yelled, pumping his fist in the air. We stared at him in silence. "Or…not," he said sheepishly as he lowered his fist.

"I think a drink sounds nice, but isn't it a bit early?" I asked.

"Blinky," Cherry cooed, "it's never too early for a drink."

"Um..don't call me 'Blinky.'"

"Oh come on, you let Mayfly call you that!"

"I actually like Mayfly."

"Ooo!" Racetrack cried. "Do you want some ice for that burn, Cherry?"

Jan gasped. "Cherry, where were you burned?" She grabbed Cherry's arm, looking furtively for the "injury."

Cherry yanked her arm from Jan's grasp. "There is no actual burn, it's a saying," she snapped. "God, I _do_ need a drink. I vote bar!"

"Well, that's good, because we're here!" Jack announced. The limo pulled into a parking lot outside a rather seedy looking bar. The neon sign read "The Wild Rodeo" and there was a blinking light depicting a cowboy atop a bucking horse.

"Hm…looks like my kind of place," Cherry said.

"You mean sleazy? I agree," Dutchy retorted, ducking from her hand as she tried to smack him.

Dutchy was actually right, more or less. When we entered the bar we were met by a haze of smoke. It was dark, save for neon signs here and there, most depicting brands of beer. The sounds of bad country music wafted through the air and the floors looked like they were sticky with a substance I didn't want to identify. We found a large booth, though the leather seats looked as though they had seen better days.

"Well, lookie here!" Cherry called from the corner of the bar. Beside her was a large, menacing mechanical bull. "It looks like this is my lucky day. Yours too, Jack." She straddled the bull, looking very natural, shooting us all a smug grin. "I happen to be quite the mechanical bull rider."

"Ha!" Race called, making his way over there. "We'll see about that!" He flipped the switch and in a moment the bull came to life. It started off slowly, swinging back and forth, but within seconds it was speeding up, getting wilder. Cherry wrapped her slim legs around the machine, holding on to the handle with one hand, her other hand in the air.

"Woo!" she cried, obviously enjoying the ride. The bull was bucking wildly, Cherry's body snapping back and forth, bouncing up and down. Her head was tilted back, her body completely arched. She looked almost as though she was orgasming.

We stood there watching, Cherry's small frame being thrown about on top of the machine, waiting for her to finally be thrown off. However, she wasn't kidding when she said she was a good rider. I don't understand how, but she managed to stay on that bull for a full seven minutes before she finally fell onto the padding below. She stood, brushing herself off, and caught sight of us standing there in awe. "I'd love to see someone try and beat that!"

"Great idea!" Jack applauded. "In fact, let's make it interesting: Whoever can stay on the bull the longest gets a private date with me tonight!"

I wasn't surprised to hear Jack's suggestion. This would definitely be an incentive for everyone. Even I, who was shaking in my sneakers just looking at the massive machine, felt I could suck it up and give it a try. What was the worst that could happen? I fall on my face?

"I'll try," I said, much to the surprise of everyone. I wasn't generally first in line for making a fool of myself. I guess the champagne I'd had at lunch was clouding my judgment, or maybe I just don't want to admit that I, once again, did something stupid for this guy I barely knew. Whatever the reason, I found myself climbing on top of the bull, positioning myself with one hand gripping the handle, and nodding to Race to flip the switch.

Cherry had made this look so easy, so carefree. It was anything but. My body began whipping about so harshly I thought I was going to get whiplash. My head was bouncing around and only seconds in I felt the beginning of a headache. Still, I held on. Somewhere to the side I think I heard cheering.

Just as I was getting into the groove of things, I felt my legs slipping. I tried to squeeze them against the bull, but I had already lost my hold. With one more buck, my entire lower body flew up from the bull. I didn't go very high, but when I came down I landed hard. _On my groin_. I don't think I need to explain why this is a problem. As the pain surged through my body, my hand slipped from the handle and I felt my body sliding off the bull.

"Stop the bull!" Race called out as my body hit the padding. The demonic machine slowed to a stop and I felt vibrations in the padding as someone approached. "You okay, Blink?" Racetrack's face appeared above me, worry in his eyes. My hand was covering my privates, trying to prevent them from further harm. I was breathing deeply, trying to concentrate on anything other than the pain

Two sets of arms wrapped around my arms and pulled me to a standing position. Racetrack and Dutchy were on either side of me, supporting me as we walked to a nearby table. The pain was beginning to slow down to a dull throb, but I still needed to sit down. I eased into a chair, looking up at the others who had crowded around me. I was grateful to see that everyone was looking at least a little concerned. "I think I need to check my, uh, injury. In the bathroom."

Racetrack began to laugh good-naturedly. Slipping beneath my arm, he helped me back to a standing position and walked me to the bathroom. "I have to admit, Blink, you've got some balls."

I winced. "Hopefully they're still there and intact!"

* * *

**AN:** This fic is not dead! It's just been in a coma and on life support for the past three years! I have every intention of finishing this, not only because that freakin' Tila Tequila girl _stole_ my idea for a reality show (except she's female, not male), but because the idea of this fic is one of my proudest and I'll be damned if I just let it dissipate.

Please, let me know what you think!


	7. July 23, 8:00am to 7:00pm

_Friday July 23_

_8:00am PST_

"Hey, Blink, how are your meat and potatoes?"

I winced at Smartass' comment. I knew she wasn't talking about my food, and not just because I was eating pancakes. Instinctively, I allowed my hand to fall into my lap, covering myself as if her comment would somehow injure my boys again.

"The Accident," as it had come to be known, had worried everyone from the executive producer to Smartass. I think I even saw Medda's normally cheery disposition falter for a moment. After Racetrack had helped me into the bathroom I managed to check my injury with little trouble. There was the start of some bruising, but, thankfully, nothing was split open. This was a relief, not only because I'm sure that would have hurt like hell, but because I had once seen a picture of a guy who lost a testicle after a horrendous skateboarding accident and I did not want to live the rest of my life feeling lopsided. I like my genital symmetry, thank you very much.

When we emerged from the restroom we were met by the on-hand paramedics who escorted me to the hospital. While I thought this was a bit overkill, it felt good to know they cared, though Specs later informed me that the producers probably didn't want me to sue, so they weren't going to just take my word that I was fine. After about an hour in a waiting room I was checked over by a doctor who was a bit too touchy-feely for my taste. Dr. Grabby ran some tests that I'm not completely sure were necessary before announcing to the worried producers that there was only some minor bruising and that I was fit to return to the house, though I should probably keep an ice pack on the injury for a few hours and call if the swelling didn't go down over the next two days. He gave me a few painkillers and scolded me to take better care of myself in the future. As if I had _intentionally_ taken a hit to the most sensitive part of my body.

I returned to the house a little loopy from the painkillers and found everyone, minus Jack and Cherry, eating dinner. Surprise, surprise, Cherry had won the date with Jack for that night. "No one even came close to her time," Dutchy sulked.

"Don't worry," I told him, "I'm sure your ride wasn't nearly as bad as mine was."

"You didn't even have the worst time," Mayfly whispered to me. "Jan lasted about five seconds. I don't think she understood the concept of the mechanical bull." I had a vision of a huge ball of teal being tossed around and smiled in spite of myself.

Per doctor's orders, I kept an ice pack on my lap for the remainder of the day, though I slipped into bed early, a bit groggy from the medicine. I awoke wet and freezing. Though I hadn't wet the bed since I was three, I found myself lying in a puddle and my first thought was that the injury had cause something to go wrong with my urinary tract or whatever it was that controlled that stuff. Then I felt an empty plastic bag and sighed in relief. The ice pack had sprung a leak while I slept. While I still would have to change the sheets and get into dry clothes, this was slightly less embarrassing.

I crept out of bed, not wanting to wake Race and especially not wanting to wake Skittery. However, my efforts were in vain, because neither was to be found. Furrowing my brow, I glanced at the clock, thinking I had only been asleep an hour or so and that the two would be coming through the door any moment to go to bed. But it was 3:00am. Who stays up until 3:00am?

Too tired, too wet, and too cold to really care about anything else at the moment, I stripped my bed and threw the sheets in a nearby hamper. We had been told that there were extra linens in a closet at the end of the hall, but to tell producers if we needed them. I peeked out, but there was no one in sight. I didn't have time to hunt down some producer, especially when I was perfectly capable of making a bed. I shuffled to the end of the hall, shivering a bit. The thought of getting into dry, warm clothing was comforting enough to get me to the fresh linens and back.

When I re-entered the room I nearly dropped the sheets I was carrying. There, lying in their beds, and seemingly sleeping soundly, were both Racetrack and Skittery. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating, or that I _had been_ hallucinating. Maybe it was the medicine or maybe I was sleepier than I thought. Either way, the two had appeared almost out of nowhere in a matter of minutes.

I placed the linens on my bare bed, my eyes boring into the back of Racetrack. I tentatively reached my hand out and shook his shoulder gently. "Race," I whispered.

He turned over with a sleepy groan, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, Blink."

"…were you here, like, three minutes ago? Because when I woke up I was the only one here and when I got back both of you were here…am I going crazy?"

"No, Blink, I was out and I guess Skittery was too. Where were you?"

"Oh, there was a little accident with my ice pack. I had to get new sheets."

"Still wetting your bed," he asked with a grin. I smiled, but smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"Don't be an ass." I went about making my bed as Racetrack sat up and climbed down from the top bunk.

"I'll do this. You can change."

I was in no position to protest, so I grabbed an extra shirt and some boxer shorts and slipped into the bathroom. I'm one of those people who loves coming in out of the rain and being able to slip into dry clothes. This was no different. Peeling the wet clothes off and feeling the dry, warm fabric of the fresh clothing against my skin was so nice that I practically orgasmed. I probably would have, too, had my injury not suddenly flared up. Groaning, I grabbed the pill bottled on the counter and popped a couple in my mouth, downing them with a handful of water.

I exited the bathroom feeling refreshed and slightly woozy and I was grateful to see the bed completely made and ready for me. "Thanks," I softly called up to Racetrack as I slid in. I realized, though, that he hadn't exactly answered my question. "Where were you anyway?"

"Would you two fucking shut up already?" Skittery snapped, his head stuffed under his pillow.

"Smoke break," Racetrack whispered sleepily and, fearing that I would incur the wrath of Skittery, I decided to leave it at that. Besides, I could feel myself lulling into a heavenly sleep.

Now, a day later, we were all sitting around the table for breakfast, a rare occurrence, believe me. Almost everyone had been extra nice to me the day before because of my injury. Now that it was obvious I was no longer in pain the claws had come back out. To be honest, I preferred it that way. Really, Smartass being sweet was just scary, kind of like the evil queen in _Snow White_ being sweet. Now that I think about it, I don't think she would be above handing out poisoned apples…

"Okay," Racetrack called out, tapping his fork against his glass of orange juice. "Since we've got an elimination tonight, which is a bummer—"

"Yeah, major bummer," Cherry mumbled dryly. "How sad to see two of _you_ go while I sit here and wait until Jack realizes I'm the prime rib among this…meatloaf."

"Ahem!" he said loudly in Cherry's direction. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, since tonight two of us will be leaving, I say we have an awesome-movie-marathon-blow-out-extravaganza! Those interested meet in the media room in two hours. We'll eat crappy food and watch crappy movies until 7:00 tonight when we will wish two of our fellow contestants adieu."

"I'm game!" Mayfly said. "So long as I get to pick one of the movies we watch."

"Uh…sure," I added. I really didn't know what else to do for the day.

"Fuck that," Skittery grumbled, barely looking up as he stood.

"Oh, but Skitts, I was so hoping you'd grace us with your sunny personality," Raetrack cried mockingly.

"Bite me, midget," Skittery snapped as he left.

"Boys, play nice," Cherry chided. "I think I could go for something laid back. We're always at each others throats. Well, _I'm_ usually down Jack's throat…or he's down mine…"

"You lie!" Duthcy cried. "I don't think the poor guy wants herpes. Anyway, I've seen you eat bananas and I doubt your nickname is "Deep Throat."

"What do bananas have to do with anything?" Jan inquired.

"It's okay sweetie," Specs patronized, patting her head. "This is grown up talk. I'll see if I can find you a nice coloring book." He got up from the table, shaking his head at the scene that had just unfolded. "I'm finishing _War and Peace_, so I'll pass."

"As long as I don't have to watch anything with Hilary Duff in it," Dutchy interjected.

"I'll try to schedule it in," Smartass told us with a yawn. "Now if you'll excuse me, my nails need polishing."

"What about you Becca," Racetrack asked with a grin, "are you ready the leave the dark side?"

The pale young woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not a Goth, dumbass. I think I'll pass as well. I have some soul searching I need to do," she mumbled as she left the table.

"Fine, have fun. You in Jan?"

"In what?"

"Do you want to join us for a movie marathon?"

"Oh! Can we watch _The Bratz Movie_?"

Like a chorus of angels, those of us remaining responded with a resounding "NO!"

* * *

_10:00am PST_

Racetrack and I had arrived at the media room a bit early to get things ready, having just raided the kitchen to look for snacks and drinks. "Do you really think we need all of this?" I asked looking down at the loot we had scrounged from the pantry. Sitting on the seats were three bags of Doritos, a bag of Fritos, two bags of Lays potato chips, two boxes of Cheetos, three boxes of Little Debbie snack cakes, a box of cookies, and two packs of Twizzlers. In the ice chest we had an assortment of sodas as well as a few bottles of water. "There're only going to be, like, six of us."

"Ooo! This room is nice!" Cherry stood in the doorway admiring the large media room. At the front of the room was a large screen that rivaled the screen of my hometown's movie theater. Set up in the room were five rows of ten comfy seats, each with its own cup holder. There was even a popcorn machine set up near the back of the room. "Why haven't we taken advantage of this room again?" she asked, plopping into one of the front row seats. The skirt she wore rose a few inches offering us a sight of her red satin thong with pink hearts on it, torn slightly near the right thigh.

The fact that I could actually describe her underwear _that_ much is just wrong.

"Cover the vag, please," Racetrack groaned, holding his hands up to his eyes. "No one here wants to see that."

Cherry rolled her eyes, but complied, bringing her knees together. "What movies do we have?"

I pulled open a panel, revealing a large collection of DVDs. "Wow, this is a nice collection," I said, my eyes scanning over the titles. "I feel kind of stupid because I haven't heard of some of these."

"Don't worry," Mayfly called out as she entered, Smartass in tow, "Jan should be here soon and she'll make you feel like Einstein."

Cherry chuckled. "I don't know, I think talking to her kills my brain cells."

"No, that's just the alcohol you guzzle," Smartass retorted as she plopped into a seat less than gracefully. She spied the food and crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Oh, that's rich, sweetie," Cherry said, obviously not offended by Smartass' remark. "As I recall, you were the one last night who drank yourself sick with gin and started babbling about your secret desire to be a Rockette."

"Your fan kicks were divine, darling!" Racetrack called out.

"Blow it out your ass!"

"Erm, to what do we owe your presence?" I asked, trying to stop the fight before it came to blows. The stilettos that both Smartass and Cherry were wearing looked like lethal weapons. "I thought you had better things to do?"

Smartass straightened up, once again regaining her cool and suave composure. "I was able to fit it in to my schedule. Daddy, after all, wouldn't like it if I turned down an invitation to socialize with such…interesting people." She leaned down to grab a bottle of water from the cooler and Mayfly leaned in to me.

"She found out that Jack wouldn't be here today," she confided. "It was either this or spend the day bouncing back and forth between Becca, Specs, and Skittery."

"And we're better than a psycho, a goth, and a geek?" Race interjected, having overheard Mayfly's comments. "I must say that makes me feel all warm and gooey inside."

"Didn't you guys bring any _real _food?" Smartass complained. "I have a fairly strict diet."

"I can go see," I said.

"Yeah, I'll help," Mayfly offered quickly, grabbing my arm and all but pushing me out of the media room and down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Whoa, I think Smartass can last more than five minutes without her carrot sticks and whole wheat bread."

Mayfly blushed, obviously not realizing just how hard she was pushing me. "Sorry, Blinky," she said. "I just really needed to talk to someone who isn't Smartass…or Jan…or, well…I needed to talk to someone I considered normal and you're the closest of anyone here."

"Well thank you…I guess." We walked into the kitchen to find it vacant as Racetrack and I had earlier. "Do they cater all of our meals?" I asked as I opened the pantry. "I never see any cooks here."

"I guess. It's probably cheaper. Maybe the regular cooks are off for the summer. Or maybe they didn't want to appear in a reality show."

"Mm," I nodded. "So what did you need to talk about?"

Mayfly looked suspiciously around the kitchen, even double checking the door to make sure no one was lurking there. "I think there's something wrong with Smartass," she whispered.

"Wrong? You mean like psychologically?" I began filling my arms with boxes of Wheat Thins and a few select fruit items that I saw lying around.

"No...well…maybe…" She shook her head. "I think she's got some type of dark past or something that she's trying to hide. I was looking online, trying to find her father's business or something." She grinned. "I was trying to see if she really was the black sheep of the family. You know, news of some scandal or something."

My eye widened. "What? Was she arrested or something?"

"That's just it. I can't find her or her father _anywhere_. I mean, I know she's not a celebrity or anything, but she talks about how great her family is and how we should've heard of her father and everything. I guess I'm surprised."

"I think you're getting a bit paranoid," I said with a laugh. "Some people just avoid the internet like the plague. My aunt won't buy a computer or even a_ television_ because she thinks it's going to make her lazy. I wouldn't be surprised if Smartass' family is the same way."

Mayfly didn't look certain, but she shrugged. "You're probably right. It's just kind of weird. Actually, a lot of these people are weird. Not to be mean or anything, but it's kind of like a freak show sometimes."

"Well, it is a reality show," I reminded her. "They thrive on strange people."

"True…but we're not that strange. At least you're not…Oh God, I'm not weird am I? I mean, I know I'm weird…but…"

I held up my hand to stop her. "Don't worry, you're not bizarre…you're just drama nerd chic."

She grinned, enveloping me in a hug. "Thanks, Blinky. We normies…well…relatively normies really need to stick together!"

* * *

_5:30pm PST_

"I'm sorry, May," Dutchy proclaimed as the credits began to roll for _American Psycho_, "but that movie was awful."

"WHAT?"

"I mean it! It was drek."

"Your face is drek!"

"Can I open my eyes now?" a very squeamish Jan asked, her eyes still scrunched closed tightly.

"I'm with Mayfly," Racetrack said as he opened the DVD player to put in the next choice. "I think this movie is very underrated."

"Ha!" Mayfly cried, sticking her tongue out at Dutchy. "I'm sure Blink feels the same way."

"Actually," I cut in hesitantly, "I'm with Dutchy." Mayfly stared at my, mouth agape. "I'm sorry! It's just…I don't see the appeal of it!"

"Fine," she said with mock anger, "you and I are no longer friends." She made a big show of walking over to Racetrack and slinging her arm around his shoulder.

Around us lay an array of empty boxes, empty bags, empty soda cans, and crumbs. In the time since we had started we had watched _Leaving Las Vegas_ (Racetrack's choice), _Stand By Me_ (my choice) _The Little Mermaid_ (Jan's choice), and _American Psycho_ (Mayfly's choice, of course). Though we had enough snack food to feed a family of five for a year, waiters arrived at noon serving us sandwiches and fries for lunch.

"Oh, I don't know," Racetrack teased, grabbing the sandwich away from Smartass. "Does this fit in to your strict diet?"

Boy, I had no idea Smartass could hit like that! From the look on his face when her fist hit his stomach I doubt Race did either.

"I have the next pick!" Dutchy proclaimed pulling out a DVD case. "_High Fidelity_!"

Racetrack groaned. "And you're calling _American Psycho_ drek?"

"Oh, come on! It's a classic!"

"Actually, guys," Cherry called out as she checked her watch, "I think I'm going to go start getting ready."

"Oh shit, it's almost six!" Mayfly said, glancing over Cherry's shoulder. "Sorry but I think I'm gonna have to bail too, guys." She and Cherry sprinted from the room to get ready for that evening.

"Ah, almost time for another sweet elimination!" Smartass said with a smile, sauntering out without a care in the world, only stopping at the door to blow us all a kiss.

For the rest of us, the mood seemed to have turned somber. "Yeah, another elimination," I said softly. I jumped as a hand slapped against my back.

"I wouldn't worry," Racetrack said with a smirk. "After your bull riding accident, Jack will keep you out of sympathy, if nothing else."

I smiled, jokingly smacking his arm. The fact was, I wasn't worried about myself. It's not that I thought I would never be eliminated – I had as good a chance as anyone of being cut—it's just that I hated the idea of seeing most of these people go. In fact, I hated seeing anyone other than Skittery go, even Jan with her lower than zero I.Q., and this was only the second elimination!

"Come one," Racetrack said, leading me out of the media room. "You've got to prettify yourself for a Mr. Jack Kelly."

* * *

_7:00pm PST_

I fidgeted with my blue tie, waiting for the elimination ceremony to begin. "Eliminaiton Ceremony." Sounds like some horrible rite of passage.

Next to me, Cherry was trying in vain to keep her black leather skirt from riding up her thighs. "Since when are you so concerned about people seeing your hoo-hoo?" Dutchy asked from the other side of her.

Cherry grit her teeth, still pulling down on the skirt. "Smartass pointed out to me that Jack may not want to make his family ashamed by choosing a...well…scantily clad woman…"

"You mean a whore?"

"I am _not_ a whore," she hissed. "I just don't feel the need to abide by societal rules regarding sex and attire."

Dutchy snorted. "I could kill someone and claim that 'I just don't feel the need to abide by societal rules regarding life and death,' but it won't change what I am."

The doors flew open, squashing the spat from going any further, and Medda entered, dressed again in a bubblegum pink outfit. "Hello!" She cried as she sashayed in. Looking to the cameras, she explained, "We are now here for our second elimination. Tonight the dream of two contestants will, sadly, come to an end." She turned to us, her eyes and teeth gleaming, almost menacingly. "Here is the man you are all competing for: Jack Kelly!"

Jack entered, dressed nicely in a suit that probably cost more than five months of rent. Unfortunately, his hair was slicked back in a very non-attractive "I-haven't-washed-my-hair-in-about-a-month-or-so" way, but I'm sure we all could forgive him for that. After all, he smiled at us, and we melted immediately. "Hello," he greeted. "Are you all well?"

"Jack," Medda cut in before anyone could answer, "I know you would like to talk with all of your suitors about how they are, but perhaps you should tell us all who you have chosen to leave the competition."

"Ah yes," he said, trying to look grim. "Unfortunately, the time has come that I must choose two of you to leave." He slowly made his way over to the table where our objects were set up. Stopping behind it, he looked over the objects, sighing in an almost overly dramatic fashion. "This has not been an easy decision, seeing as you all have something to offer me."

"All you have to offer him is an STD," Smartass whispered to Cherry through a forced smile. She grunted in pain when Cherry's elbow jabbed into her stomach.

"I have decided, though, that there are two of you that I just didn't really connect with," Jack finished. His hand reached forward and we all held our breath. "My first elimination…is Becca," he said, picking up the charcoal sketch.

Becca stood, smoothing down the long black skirt. I would say that she was upset by the elimination, but she always looked so serious that it was hard to tell. Stepping up to Jack, Becca gently took the sketch from him. "I'm sorry," he told her earnestly, "but I don't think we're meant for each other."

Becca shrugged. "If it was meant to be, it would have happened," she said simply.

Medda stepped forward, dabbing non-existent tears from her eyes. "Oh, Becca! We are going to miss you!" she said, pulling a very stiff and _very _wide-eyed Becca in for a hug, Becca's black gown blending with the Pepto-Bismol atrocity Medda was donning. It was almost comical, like a clown hugging a mime.

"My next elimination," Jack announced, grabbing our attention away from the awkward hug, "is Joshua," he said, picking up the large book from the table.

A rather ticked looking Specs stood and walked to Jack. "I'm sorry," Jack said again, "I just don't think you're the one for me."

"I guess I'm a bit to intellectually stimulating for you?" Specs asked. "I suppose Jan's company is more your speed." He snatched the book from Jack's hands and brushed past Medda, ignoring her attempts at a hug and walked out the door. Becca, who had stayed for the second elimination, looked back at the rest of us, relaxing now that we were safe. She gave a large wave before scurrying out.

Two arms wrapped around me from behind and I heard Mayfly whisper in my ear, "Woo-hoo! Safe again!"

I grinned, trying to return the hug, though she was behind me. I'm pretty sure my hug would probably constitute as some form of sexual harassment.

"Midnight movie in ten minutes!" she said. "Tell no one else! You know, except like Racetrack and Dutchy… and Cherry isn't that bad when she keeps her legs closed…"

I glanced at my watch. "It's only 7:30. How can this be a midnight movie?"

"…Do not question me!"

"Uh…yes ma'am?"

"You've trained him well, May," Racetrack said with a smirk.

"Well, I do what I can. Movie in ten minutes, by the by. You in?"

Racetrack shrugged. "If Blink's in, I'm in!"

"Ooo," Mayfly squealed. "Do I sense a widdle cwush?"

"No—not that you aren't dead sexy, Blink—"

"Thanks, Race."

"It's more that I don't want to be alone in our room with Skittery," he explained. As Mayfly walked off to invite more people to her "secret midnight movie" Racetrack leaned in to me, whispering, "Though the thought of sitting next to you in a dark, tight space does seem quite nice as well."

My cheeks and ears flared up. "I…"

"Blink," Race said rolling his eyes, "that was a joke. You need to learn when someone is joking," he chided. He shot me a wink before running off to the media room to stop Dutchy from putting in _High Fidelity_.

"I usually _can_ tell," I mumbled to myself. _Only with you, Racetrack._

* * *

AN: Woo! Another chapter out! I'm really,_ really_ excited about finishing this! :Squee: As always, reviews are appreciated. Praise is always wonderful, but constructive criticism is even better. Flames are less desirable, but if that's all you've got to give, by all means!


	8. July 24, 11:30am to 9:45pm

_Saturday July 24_

_11:30am PST_

"Can you believe that we've been here a week and you and I haven't gotten at each others throats or anything yet?" Race asked from his place next to me in the small van. We were currently speeding down a California interstate to an unknown location. The two of us had situated ourselves in the back seat, a camera man sitting on the other side of Race. Occupying the seat in front of us were Cherry and Mayfly, who seemed to be engaged in a conversation about _The Rocky Horror Picture Show,_ and in the front passenger seat was another camera man. Behind us was an identical van carrying the other four remaining contenders.

"Well I've actually been considering killing you in your sleep or something to thin out the competition, but then I realized I'd be stuck with Skittery," I joked. My ears reddened as soon as I had said it, afraid he wouldn't realize that I was only kidding. To my relief he let out a laugh.

"Well that's why you should get him first. Hell, you could even pass it off as self-defense!" he theorized. "Then when you kill me you'll have the room all to yourself."

"...Did you just advise me on the best way to kill you?"

"You know," Cherry interjected, "it really isn't fair that Dutchy now has a room all to himself."

"You're just pissed because you're left all alone with Jan," Racetrack retorted with a good natured grin. Cherry retaliated by sticking out her tongue. "Oh, that's attractive!"

"You think Jan is bad? Try living with Smartass!" Mayfly groaned. "It's like living in a beauty salon, only without the really crappy tabloid magazines."

Racetrack and I nodded in sympathy. After our mini movie marathon the previous evening she had come to our room, begging us to let her stay there until Smartass fell asleep. "She has this 'pre beauty sleep beauty ritual' or something. The products smell like barf and I think inhaling them is doing some major damage to my brain," she had explained when she showed up at our door wearing PJs. Skittery had already fallen asleep and, since none of us wanted to risk waking him, the three of us decided it best to sneak down to the library and ended up talking down there until well past 2:00am. Not the best of ideas when we had to get up this morning at 8:00.

"_Please_! I can take Smartass," Cherry told her. "I'd take a bitch over a dumbass any day."

"I can handle bitch, but she takes it to a new level. With Jan I can just block out her stupidity. I've dealt with enough idiots in my life to build up immunity to their drivel."

"Ooo," Race interrupted, "let's put Jan and Smartass in a room together. Smartass can bitch all she wants and Jan won't care because she won't understand the insults."

"I have one better!" I said. "Let's put Smartass and Skittery in a room together and see who kills who first."

Mayfly snorted. "Talk about your death matches. Normally, I'd bet on Skittery, but Smartass is more lethal than I think people give her credit for."

"Yeah," Race agreed, "woman are always crazier."

"Exactly, I—Hey!" Mayfly smacked him on the shoulder. "I resent that sexist remark!"

"Hey! You can't hit a gay man, that's homophobia!" Race yelled as he returned the favor.

"Children," I chided, "if you can't behave yourselves I'll turn this van around and neither of you will be able to ogle Jack." They both folded their arms in mock anger. Cherry snickered at the entire ordeal.

"Seriously, you guys are a bit nutso. I'm just waiting for it to get down to the nitty-gritty final four and see if you guys still have this 'Three Amigos' thing going on," she said with a smile.

"How do you even know we'll get to the finals?" I asked. "Any one of us could go home at the next elimination. Any_ two_ of us, in fact."

Cherry shrugged. "I don't know…I just feel like you guys have 'Final Four' written all over you. With _me_ included, of course," she added with a grin.

"Aw, are you jealous because we won't let you into our clique of ultra cool people?"

"Shut up, Mayfly," Cherry said with a nudge as the van pulled into a parking lot situated between two stores, one a men's clothing store (Delphino's), the other a women's clothing store (Marlata's). Both looked very expensive.

"Shopping trip?" Mayfly suggested as we glanced from store the store.

"That's way too tame," Race said. "It has to be something worse than that."

The four of us piled out of the van as the other one pulled in behind us. It was nearly noon and the summer sun was beating down on us mercilessly. I was seriously beginning to regret my choice to wear jeans that day. I looked enviously at the girls, all of whom had opted for skirts.

Dutchy sidled up behind Racetrack and me. "Hey," Race whispered to him. "We all took a vote and decided that it's not fair for you to have a room to yourself, so we're going to send Skittery over there when we get back."

"Ha!" Dutchy cried. "That's what you think. I just had to spend an hour sitting next to the little ray of sunshine in a cramped little van. You guys can keep him."

As the two of them stood beside me bickering I caught sight of a limousine pulling into the parking lot. I nudged Race and pointed to it. "I think we're about to find out what's going on."

The limo pulled up in front of us and the engine stopped. We stood there silently and awkwardly, waiting for the door to open and for the blur of hot pink we had come to know as Medda to emerge and tell us what our next bizarre task was.

The door popped open, but instead of a crazed looking woman in a bubble gum gown we were greeted by Medda looking semi-normal for once in a brown tweed suit with matching pumps. Behind her an equally well-dressed Jack also stepped out of the limo, sporting a dark blue suit with a white shirt and a dark blue tie.

"Hello! I trust you are all doing well," Medda greeted us. "As you can see both Jack and I are dressed for the occasion."

Oh crap! Were we supposed to wear something nice? My eyes darted about our group, meticulously scanning each person's ensemble. I let out a sigh of relief when I realized everyone else was dressed similarly to me. Well, except maybe for Smartass, but I don't think she owned anything that was truly casual.

Medda, as if reading my mind, laughed, saying, "Don't worry, you are all dressed perfectly fine…for now." She smirked knowingly, stepping back and allowing Jack to take over from there.

"As you are aware, my family comes from money. As heir to the family fortune it is my responsibility to make sure my family's name is well respected at all times." He looked at each of us very seriously before continuing. "I _cannot_ be with a person who is going to bring scandal and dishonor to the family name. This doesn't only mean that the person I choose must avoid things embarrassments like drugs or run-ins with the authorities; this also means that the person I choose will need to attend any social functions looking good and knowing how to behave properly. That means knowing proper table etiquette, polite conversation, and…" he paused, smiling, "dance."

"You've got be fucking kidding me," I heard someone (I think Skittery) mutter.

"Now, I don't necessarily mean dance with me nor do I mean a professional dance ability," Jack explained, "but rather a basic sense of dance to serve you at any event you attend. For example, an elderly businessman—or his wife—may be interested in dancing with one of you and I'd prefer not to be embarrassed."

By this point Medda had collected eight envelopes from the limo and began handing one to each of us. "Do not look inside of these just yet," she instructed.

"This challenge will consist of essentially three stages: appearance, etiquette, and dance." Jack continued, counting each one off on his fingers. "Here you will be taking care of appearance. Each of you has been given an envelope containing two thousand dollars. When I say 'Go' you will run to one of these stores," he instructed, pointing to the stores on either side of him, "depending, of course, on your gender, and find an outfit you think would be suitable for a high-class social function. You will have an hour to put together an outfit with shoes and accessories. For the challenge tonight you will only be allowed to wear clothing purchased here, minus any undergarments. Work quickly because you will need to be back here by the end of the hour and anyone who is late will be disqualified from the challenge.

"From here you will all be brought back to the house where you will have lunch with Mrs. Mary Patrick, a renowned etiquette teacher, who will teach you the basics of table manners and polite conversation. At 2:00pm you will take a one hour dance class with Daniel and Eva Watts to learn the basics of ballroom dance. The Watts own the best dance studio in the city," he informed us with pride. "You each will also be given a ten minute private lesson with them to clean up any rough areas.

"At 4:30pm you will each have someone there to do your hair and, for the girls, make-up. Don't worry guys," he added with a wink, "you can also have some basic make-up if you want. Just remember, you are in complete control and it is your responsibility to make sure they make you look good. If you don't, it's your own fault," he said with a serious look. "Finally, at exactly 5:30pm a limousine will pull up to pick all of you up and bring you to a small event I am hosting for perspective business associates. If you are not downstairs when it arrives you are disqualified from the challenge."

Medda stepped forward, taking over from where Jack had left off. "The winner of this challenge will _not_ be treated to a private dinner with him." An upset murmur washed through the group. Medda, though, smiled. "Instead, the winner will be able to spend the entire day with Jack tomorrow…alone."

_That_ perked us up. The groans of disappointment quickly turned to squeals of excitement. Near the edge of the group I saw Smartass practically licking her lips at the thought of an entire day alone with Jack. She caught my eye and shot me a smug grin. She obviously thought she had it in the bag. Considering her posh upbringing, she probably did.

"Are you all ready?" Jack asked with a teasing smile. Barely waiting for our responses, he shouted, "Go!" He and Medda both took cover in the limo as the group shot forward, boys veering left, girls going to the right.

I was leading the boys' group and shot through the revolving door into the icy cold store. Skittery was right behind me and all but shoved me out of the way as he ran passed to the racks of jackets. I looked out the window and saw Dutchy and Race running neck and neck toward the door. I thought about waiting for Racetrack, but it hit me that, as much as I liked him, this was a competition. At the end of the day he was my competitor and he sure wasn't going to be doing me any favors. With a final quick glance outside, I followed Skittery's lead and began browsing the jackets.

_Black…navy blue…grey…brown…green? Ew…_ I looked at each jacket, trying to find the style and color that would best suit me. I may be gay, but when it comes to fashion I'm not exactly knowledgeable of what does and doesn't look good on me. I quickly dismissed green and grey, the former because the color seemed like it would induce vomiting and the latter because it seemed a bit too elderly for me. Brown didn't seem as though it would really do anything for me, either.

As I made my way over to the three-way mirror I was holding two different navy blue jackets and three different black jackets. I hung them all up on a nearby hook, grabbing the first of the blue ones and trying it on. _Too sailorish_ I thought, dismissing it immediately. The first two black ones were soon dismissed as well. The third black one slid on easily, the silky inner-lining rubbing smoothly against my skin. I looked in the mirror, studying the jacket at every angle I could. _Not bad…_ It was well-tailored, falling just to my waist line, and suited me very well. The cufflink buttons looked like they were pearl. Not something I'd usually go with, but it somehow seemed to really work for me.

I heard a shrill wolf whistle and saw Race approaching the mirror, jackets and pants in hand. "Not bad!" he told me, nodding his head in approval.

I blushed, slipping the jacket off. "Thanks, I think I'm going to go with it."

"You know, I saw a pair of slacks that would probably go nicely with that." He turned his head to the far right of the store, pointing to a mannequin wearing a pair of tailored black slacks.

"Thanks," I repeated. I turned, but then paused. "You're not just saying that to screw me up, are you?" I asked, a bit ashamed of my own doubt.

He feigned innocence. "Would I do that? Well…yeah, I would…but in this case I really mean it," he said with an earnestness I rarely saw with him. Suddenly, I felt guilty for dismissing him as only a competitor a few minutes earlier.

"Thanks" I said for the third time, making a mental note to offer my help to Race if he so requested it.

I abandoned the other jackets where I had hung them and jogged toward the slacks he had indicated. Somewhere behind me I heard a crash and sounds of a struggle. I glanced in a mirror and saw Dutchy and Skittery on the ground fighting over a black shirt. As entertaining as it was, I didn't allow myself to dwell very long on the scuffle, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand.

Racetrack brushed passed me, holding a navy blue jacket and matching slacks. "Just think," he called out to me, "as crazy as this is for us, it must be even worse for the girls right now!"

* * *

_12:50pm PST_

The eight of us were seated at the dining room table waiting eagerly for our etiquette teacher to arrive, not because the idea of an hour being told how to properly hold utensils excited us, but because none of us had eaten since breakfast. Identical place settings were in front of each of us, consisting of two forks, two spoons, a knife, a small bread plate, a glass of water and ice, and a wine glass. We had already placed the napkins on our laps. Well, most of us had.

"Race, that's supposed to go on your lap," an annoyed Smartass scolded. Racetrack had opted to be different, stuffing his napkin into the front of his shirt so that it hung down like a bib.

Cherry gulped down more of the ice water. "Christ, when is this woman getting here? I'm starved!"

Dutchy was eyeing the trays of food that were sitting on the cart at the front of the dining room. "Ooo, I think I see baked potato!" he exclaimed. "I hope the food at the event tonight doesn't suck. Like I can pass on the hoity-toity caviar and stuff, just give me a nice burger and fries."

Smartass snorted, shaking her head in dismay. "I don't know how you expect to win this thing. You don't know the first thing about culture." A devious glint sparkled in her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "Besides, I think we can tell from this challenge that the winner is likely going to be of the female persuasion."

"Oh bull!" Dutchy cried. "I don't recall Jack saying 'Oh by the by, vag trumps dick!'"

"You really are delusional, aren't you?" Smartass said more as a statement than a question. "Jack said that, as an heir, he needs to avoid scandal." We men at the table shared confused looks with each other, prompting an exasperated Smartass to elaborate. "Jack is not going to want to stray from the norm which, as we all know, is boy marries girl, not boy marries girl."

"What next, Smartass? Are you going to be screaming 'Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve'?" Racetrack asked, obviously a bit miffed.

"Look, I'm not condemning the lifestyle; I just don't think Jack's family would want him to choose a boy as his life partner."

"Sad that I actually have to agree with Smartass," Cherry said, "but she does make a valid point."

"We guys have as good a chance as you girls," I put in. "Mayfly probably agrees with us!"

In response, Mayfly shot me a sheepish, almost apologetic smile. "Guys, you know I'm one hundred percent pro-gay and all…but I think it's a really good point. I mean, if this were some Joe Schmo I could see it going either way, but in this case I think the odds are tipped in our favor."

What happened next was an array of yelling, slurs, and all around arguing. From every side someone was shouting, trying to get their point across:

"You guys need to face facts!"

"You're just jealous because Jack is obviously more gay than he is straight!"

"What is he going to say when he shows up at a function with a guy as his date?"

"Yeah, cause gay couples are so fucking scarce in fucking _California_!"

"Jack was totally staring at my package today, so I think we can conclude that he's queer as a three dollar bill."

"Uh, did you see him looking at my fucking boobs?"

"You mean that look of terror? Yeah, saw that."

"You are all fucking dumb as shit, so who really cares?"

"Can we please use our inside voices?"

The doors leading to the dining room slammed open, banging against the walls with a resounding crash. In a flash the shouting stopped and we all fell into our seats, hands resting on the table. We looked to the doors and saw a tall, thin, older woman standing there, clipboard in hand. Her wheat blonde hair was completely pulled into a tight, neat bun atop her head with a pencil sticking through it. Her eyes were hard, her lips twisted into a "no-nonsense" scowl. Her gray suit was crisp and clean, not a thread out of place. She looked like the kind of teacher that would slap unruly students on the knuckles with her ruler without batting an eye.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes looking down the table, examining each of us as though we were a mud splatter on her good linen. She walked in slowly, eyes still observing us. Finally, she took a place at the head of the table and set her clipboard down. "Hello," she said coolly, "I am Mary Patrick and, as I am sure you know, I am here to teach you proper etiquette so you do not make a fool of yourself or of Mr. Kelly tonight." She walked around to where Race was sitting. "Your napkin goes on your lap," she told him with a cold tone. When he made no move to correct his napkin's placement, she grabbed it, yanking it from its place, and dropped it on to his lap.

"We will begin with the utensils. Have any of you ever taking an etiquette class?" She asked. In her eyes I could see that she had already decided who here was worthy of her time and who here was not.

Smartass raised her hand, sitting up tall in her seat. "I have Mrs. Patrick. I'm Vaughn Kensington."

Mrs. Patrick looked at Smartass, her eyes squinting. Finally, her mouth twisted into what I can only assume was an attempt at a smile. "Very well, Miss Kensington, I hope you can set a good example for everyone else." Smartass smiled like the Cheshire Cat, looking around the table to make sure everyone else had heard that.

The next hour consisted of Mrs. Patrick talking and Mrs. Patrick scolding. Mostly she scolded. First she explained the use of each utensil, pointing out the salad fork, soup spoon, entrée fork, and dessert spoon. "When you are dining, just remember to start from the outside and work your way in," she advised.

Next, the food was brought out, beginning with a small salad of greens, cherry tomatoes, diced onions, cucumbers, and olives, topped with a creamy dressing. I spied Dutchy wrestling to stab a tomato with his fork. "C'mon you little fucker," I heard him mutter. He dropped the fork in defeat and, after glancing up to make sure Mrs. Patrick wasn't looking, grabbed it with his hand and popped it into his mouth. Unfortunately, he was not quick enough to escape her watchful eye.

"Polite guests do not use their hands!" Mrs. Patrick told him. "This is not a burger joint!"

I managed to do fairly well with the lesson, only being scolded once for sipping my soup. In my defense, though, I was only sipping it because it was so hot and I didn't want to scald my tongue. While this wasn't the actual challenge, I had a feeling Mrs. Patrick would relay to Jack how we had behaved during the lesson. I spotted her making notes a couple of times during the meal.

"No, no, Mr. Higgins!" she cried. "You do not hold your knife and fork as though you are about to stab someone with them!"

It was clear that Racetrack wasn't one of Mrs. Patrick's favorite pupils of the day. From using the wrong fork for the salad to putting his elbows on the table to chewing loudly on the ice in his glass of water, Racetrack seemed completely oblivious to any of her teachings. Right now he was trying to cut his filet minion, though as she stood over him scolding, his face grew redder and redder. "I prefer to hold them this way. Besides, you never know when the need to stab someone will arise," he retorted with a not so surreptitious glance toward her.

If Mrs. Patrick recognized the veiled threat she didn't show it. Instead, she pointed to Smartass who was also cutting her meat, though in a much classier manner. "See how Miss Kensington cuts her meat? She holds the utensils delicately." Smartass stabbed a piece of the meat with her fork, raising it to her mouth. Before eating it she shot Racetrack a smug look.

"Psst! Blink!" I looked across the table to Mayfly. "Do you want my asparagus?"

"Do not whisper at the table, Miss Bennet!" Mrs. Patrick admonished. "If what you are saying is polite conversation—and it should be—you can say it loud enough for everyone."

"I was simply offering my asparagus to Blink…er…I mean to Mr. Keller."

"I think it's pretty darn polite of her to offer me her food," I joked. Mayfly shot me a thankful smile. Mrs. Patrick just scowled.

"Hell yeah! Dessert!" Dutchy shouted as plates of tiramisu were brought out on the cart. When Mrs. Patrick shot him a look he stammered, "I mean, uh, how delightful! They are now bringing out the desserts."

"I'm afraid I must pass on dessert," Smartass announced. "I do have my figure to look out for. I'd hate to not fit in my brand new dress."

"So why bother sticking around?" Cherry asked after shoving a spoonful of tiramisu into her mouth, ignoring Mrs. Patrick's reminder about not talking with food in your mouth.

"Because," Smartass explained, smiling sweetly, "leaving while others are still enjoying their meal would be rude." Mrs. Patrick's lips once again twisted into a sort of smile as she patted Smartass' head.

"Good doggy," Racetrack muttered as his eyes narrowed in Smartass' direction.

* * *

_3:40pm PST_

_One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three_ I counted in my head as Eva and I danced around the ballroom floor in our ten minute one-on-one session. Daniel was standing to the side watching, beating a cane against the floor to help me feel the rhythm of the music. My palms were sweating, my head looking down at my feet as I tried in vain not to step on Eva's toes.

I'm not a complete dud when it comes to dancing. I like to think I have a good sense of rhythm and I can hold my own when I go out to clubs, though alcohol often helps. Still, I was having a bit of trouble getting this down.

"You're doing better," Eva said with an encouraging smile, "but try not to keep your head down so much. Remember, you need to talk to the woman you're dancing with."

"Sorry," I told her with a sheepish smile. "I just feel as though I need to look at my feet."

"Believe me, they aren't going to go anywhere without you." I cracked a smile, loosening up a bit. After an hour with Mrs. Patrick, Daniel and Eva were a breath of fresh air.

The eight of us had been milling about the ballroom waiting for the lesson to start. Smartass was explaining to a rather bored looking Cherry her background in ballroom dance. Dutchy had found a small grand piano and was currently improvising on it with Mayfly adding vocals here and there. Jan and Racetrack were both trying to get a head start by pairing off and trying a few steps on the floor. Skittery, as usual, had ostracized himself from the rest of the group and was sulking in a chair.

And me? Well, I was just in the middle of it all, observing a little of everything. Mostly, though I was watching Racetrack. I have to admit I was very impressed by his ability. He didn't strike me as the dancer type and yet I watched as he seemed to float across the dance floor, his foot stepping in exactly the right spot with every move. His body moved with ease and even when Jan stepped on his foot, as she did countless times, he didn't show it in his expression.

I'm not sure how long I watched him, but at one point he caught my eye and gave me both a sly smile and a wink sending me into a blushing frenzy.

At precisely 2:00pm the doors opened and in walked a medium sized guy and a minute woman. The man had green eyes, brown hair and the beginning of a brown goatee while the woman had deep blue eyes and fiery red hair. He was wearing loose slacks and a T-shirt and she was wearing a tank top, wrap around skirt, and heels so high they practically made her as tall as me. "Hi," the man called out jovially, "I'm Daniel Watts and this is my wife, Eva." Eva gave a small wave. "We're here to give you all a quick dance lesson. I hope by the time you walk out of here you'll be pros, but don't worry too much. Just do your best," he said with a wink.

We were paired off by height. I was with Jan, Mayfly was with Dutchy, Racetrack was with Cherry, and Smartass got stuck with Skittery. It was probably for the best, though, seeing as she was the only one who could effectively deal with his crap. Both simply glared at each other with identical scowls.

"Men, take your lady's right hand with your left and place your right hand on her waist. Ladies, place your left hand on your man's shoulder," Daniel instructed, showing with Eva as his partner. "We're going to start with a simple box step. We're going to step to the men's left—that'll be your right, ladies—and then back. Ladies, when we step back, _you_ will actually be stepping forward," he explained, seeing Jan trying to step back as I stepped back. "Now men will step to their right and ladies to their left, and finally the men will step forward as the women step back."

We all practiced this with our respective partners. I could see Racetrack and Cherry smoothly going through the steps, Cherry adding a hip pop with every step. Dutchy and Mayfly seemed to be doing well, though every now and then Dutchy would step too far forward squashing poor May's toes. Skittery looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, especially with Smartass as his partner. His body was slumped and it looked more like she was dragging him around the floor than actually dancing.

"No, Jan, go to your right," I explained as she once again stepped in the wrong direction. She bit her lip in frustration. I could tell by the look in her eyes that this dance was going to take every brain cell she had. Poor girl was doomed. "Which hand do you hold your make-up brush in?" I asked, feeling a bit of inspiration.

She raised her right hand up. "This one…my…right?" she asked, smiling triumphantly when I nodded.

"Now which hand do you hold your compact mirror in when you're applying make-up?" This time she raised her left hand. "Good job. Now I want you to step to the brush side." As I stepped with my left foot she stepped with her right foot without hesitation. "Very good!" I congratulated. "Now, step to the compact side." She stepped smoothly to the left.

She giggled as we began stepping side to side. "I think I've got it now! You just need to remind me of which side."

I smiled, finding her childlike joy charming despite how unfortunate it was that her entire perception of right and left depended on her make-up habits. "You ready to go forward?" I asked. "Just remember forward is the lips direction and back is the hair direction," I reminded, hoping she wouldn't actually need that to remember front from back. "So…brush…lips…compact…hair," I muttered softly to her as we made a perfect box.

"Brush…lips…compact…hair…brush…lips…compact…hair," she kept whispering to herself softly over and over, her eyes closed as if she were in deep meditation.

At the front of the room Daniel clapped to get everyone's attention. "Very good, everyone! I can see that you all have at least a basic sense of dance. We're going to go into some steps that are slightly more complicated. If you have trouble, just raise your hand one either Eva or I will come and help you get back on track. Don't forget you each will also have a ten minute private session with us after the group lesson." He nodded to Eva to start the music and the two started a small routine, showing us what they hoped to teach us in the remaining time.

The last fifty minutes were a blur of twists, turns, dips, kicks, and, for some, a couple of lifts. It was as if Daniel and Eva had taken every step in tango, salsa, mambo, waltz, and swing, mashed them up together in a nifty fifty minute abridged version and then spewed it upon us hoping we would soak it all up through some form of osmosis. My hips were moving in ways I didn't even know were possible, my head was spinning, trying to grasp every new move shown to us, and my feet were beginning to throb in pain, though that could have been attributed to my partner.

"Oh, did I step on your foot again?"

I grunted a yes, glaring at the teal and silver heels Jan was wearing. Unlike with the box step, this time I couldn't be frustrated with Jan for her inability to pick up the steps. Aside from Racetrack and Cherry, who were going at it like pros, and Smartass, who would have looked more graceful with a more enthusiastic partner, everyone seemed to be struggling a bit with the steps. As poorly as I was doing I knew I could take solace in the fact that Skittery was a flailing mess.

Just when it seemed Jan and I had mastered the spin out and spin in the music came to an abrupt halt. "Unfortunately," Eva announced, "time is up for our group session. We're going to begin the private sessions beginning with Ashleigh and going through each person alphabetically. In the meantime, the rest of you can wait out in the hall, but, out of respect for whomever is in here for their session, please keep the noise to a minimum!"

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, not realizing how much of a sweat I had built up in the past hour. The group, minus Mayfly, trekked to the door. I had a feeling most of us were going to be pairing up and practicing as much as we possibly could in the narrow hallway. As I passed Mayfly, I shot her a thumbs up. She responded by smacking me on the ass playfully.

"Hands off, May!" Race admonished, "I saw him first." He grabbed my arm protectively, linking his through mine and resting his head against my shoulder.

Having finally gotten used to Racetrack's brand of teasing, I simply smiled and walked out, arm and arm with him, like a groom and his bride. "Sorry, May, but I've got to go with Racetrack seeing as he actually has a penis and all," I called out over my shoulder.

"Dude, penises are hot," he proclaimed to me.

"Hell yes, brother!"

* * *

_5:20pm PST_

I stood looking in the foyer's full length mirror. Looking back at me was my completed look for the evening and I have to say, in all honesty, I looked pretty damn hot. I had gone with the black jacket with pearl buttons and the black slacks Race had pointed out to me. I had also found a dark green button-up which, when the fabric was in a certain light, reflected as being black. It worked nicely with the jacket and slacks, in my opinion. I was lucky enough to fine a black silk tie with flecks of green that topped off the entire ensemble. With the remaining money I grabbed a pair of black dress shoes.

When my stylist, Erica, arrived I simply asked her to give my hair a trim and comb it so that it fell to the right and a little over my forehead. She gave me a bit of concealer and foundation to cover up a couple of stubborn blemishes and when I stepped out of the chair to the mirror what I saw staring back at me was one sexy beast. "You'll knock 'em dead!" Erica assured me in a thick, gum-chomping New Jersey accent as she brushed a few stray hairs from the collar of my jacket.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up from my reflection to see Dutchy and Jan descending. Dutchy seemed to have won the black shirt he and Skittery had been fighting over. With it he wore a dark grey blazer and matching slacks. As much as I had thought the grey looked too elderly for me, on him it simply seemed to work. He had opted not to wear a tie and the top button of his shirt was open to, revealing a small flash of his upper chest. His hair didn't look the slightest bit different, though, and the shagginess of it clashed with the suavity of his outfit.

Predictable old Jan had managed to find a teal gown, though I had to admit that, for once, her teal ensemble wasn't horrible. The gown was a baby doll dress that came to just below her knees, Around the waist was a silver braided belt that tied on the side and brought out the bits of silver in the fabric of the dress. Her shoes were the same ones she had been wearing during our lesson. Her strawberry-blonde hair was a mass of curls that had been pinned on top of her head, a few curls falling down around her face. She seemed to have kept her make-up simple, opting for a little teal eye shadow and pink lip gloss. Two silver hoops dangled from her ears and a silver choker was situated around her neck.

"You guys look very nice," I complimented.

"Not so nice as you," Racetrack said as he jogged down the stairs behind him. I could hear the clacking of heels behind him and saw Mayfly and Cherry also on their way down. Behind them a very sulky looking Skittery shuffled down as well.

Racetrack had managed to find a pinstripe suit which he wore with a white shirt and white bow tie. His shoes were those old-timey black and white shoes and I'm almost positive I saw the chain of a pocket watch hanging down. All he needed was a fedora and a cane to complete the look. His hair was slicked to the side in a way that is just so sexy, but that you can't really describe _why_ it's sexy. You just _know _that it is.

Mayfly's gown was a dark red spaghetti strap dress with a corseted top that looked as though it were silk. The skirt flared out slightly, a small red petticoat under it, and fell to her knees. Her shoes were open-toed stilettos with criss-crossing rhinestone buckles. In her ears I saw the glint of rhinestone earrings. Her eyes had a smoky black-purple shadow and a dark liner, her lips a dark red. The front sections of her hair had been pulled back and pinned with a jeweled barrette. The rest of her hair cascaded down her back in wavy tendrils.

Cherry's black strapless dress was tight and short. I mean_ really_ short. Like, _upper thighs_ short. She was wearing black stockings with super-high black platform heels, making it difficult to distinguish where the stockings ended and the shoes began. Around her neck was a long silver chain that hung almost as low as her navel. Hanging on the chain was a large black and silver medallion. Long black earring dangled from her ear lobes, catching the light every time she turned. Her brown had been situated atop her head with small rhinestones stuck in here and there. Her eyes were completely lined in black and her lips had a dark reddish-brown hue.

Skittery's suit was completely black with only his red tie giving the ensemble any color. His hair was an unruly mess, curls hanging down into his eyes. This, combined with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes cast downward, and the general sour expression on his face, made for one scary looking guy.

"Where's the little rich girl?" Dutchy asked Mayfly.

She jerked her thumb back to the second floor. "She's still getting herself ready. Her hair and make-up person left ages ago and she said he was so incompetent she has to completely fix everything. You should see her fucking dress, though. It looks like the dress Audrey Hepburn wore in _Roman Holiday_. I can't believe she was able to find that for only two thousand dollars…and could still afford shoes and accessories."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess she got herself another tiara," Racetrack assessed.

Mayfly nodded. "It's even bigger than the one she already has."

I glanced at the grandfather clock and did a double take. "She had better hurry if she wants to win this," I said, pointing to the clock. "It's 5:30."

As if on cue, the front door was opened by a door man and there in the drive-way was the stretch limo. I looked back toward the stairs. "Should…should we tell her?"

Cherry snorted. "Please! We are not her keeper. She was told the rules of the challenge," she said as she sauntered out to the limo. Mayfly, Skittery, Jan, and Dutchy followed her lead, leaving only Racetrack and me to determine what to do.

For Racetrack the answer was obvious. "Hey, Smartass! Hope you can find a pumpkin to take you to the ball!" he yelled, quickly grabbing my arm and pulling me out to the limo. He shoved me in and slammed the door behind him as he slid in next to me. "Go!" he ordered the driver. And with that the limo pulled out, leaving behind what I'm sure would be a very pissed off Smartass.

"Ah!" Dutchy said, making a big show of spreading his legs out. "It's so much cozier in here with just seven people."

* * *

_7:00pm PST_

The banquet hall was buzzing with music, chatter, and the clinking of utensils against fine china dishes. The red velvet curtains had been tied back away from the ceiling to floor windows, giving the guests a view of the beautiful night sky. To the far right was a moderately sized dance floor, behind which a band had set up and begun playing soft "mood music." Above the dance floor was a massive chandelier that was tediously swaying back and forth.

On the other side of the room three tables were set up. We contestants sat at one table, the furthest one back. At the next table were four couples ranging in age from late twenties to early sixties. The front table was occupied by Jack and Medda.

Medda had returned to her favorite color, though in a less severe shade. She wore an empire waist, floor length gown in light pink. Her hair had been pulled up and in the back a pink rose was clipped in. Jack was wearing the same dark blue suit and white shirt, only now he had a silver tie to top off the ensemble. Unfortunately, his hair was once again slicked back in that way I hated.

When we had arrived the other guests were already situated in their seats. I was surprised to see such a meager amount of guests, having expected to enter a ballroom crammed with rich, snobby blue bloods, the men talking to each other about finances and their wives talking to each other about the latest fashion show they had attended. I was not expecting to see only eight other guests besides us.

Upon seeing us, Jack had greeted the group with a simple hello, not even commenting on Smartass' conspicuous absence. He asked us each to take a seat at the back table and to enjoy the meal before he returned to his private table. I noticed Cherry pouting, obviously upset that she wouldn't be able to sit next to Jack. Still, she sucked it up and slid into the seat to my right. Race and Mayfly were right across from us with Jan and Dutchy next to them. The seat to my left was empty as Skittery had chosen to sit on the other end of the table as though sitting by the rest of us would give him some fatal disease. Can't say I was complaining.

We were about forty minutes into our main course—lamb with mint jam, potato au gratin, and spinach with a creamy cheese sauce—when Medda stood, clinking her fork against her glass to get everyone's attention. "I hope everyone is enjoying their meal!" Her comment was met with murmurs of agreement from everyone. "I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all on the behalf of Mr. Jack Kelly for coming this evening." There was a round of applause as we congratulated ourselves for getting dressed up and coming to a fancy dinner. Yay us.

"Dessert and coffee will be served shortly and, after that, the dance floor will be open for any couples who wish to take advantage of it," she informed us. "For now, while I have everyone here, I would like to toast to young Mr. Kelly." She raised her wine glass in the air, turning to Jack who was feigning embarrassment, though his smile betrayed how much he was enjoying the attention. "To Jack!"

"To Jack!" we echoed, raising our glasses as well.

"May he live a happy and prosperous life with his future soul mate." She smiled in the direction of our table before adding, "Who we hope he will find within the coming week."

"Here, here!" Jack called out, raising his glass in our direction.

With that the kitchen doors swung open and waiters emerged, each carrying two plates of crème brûlée smothered with a light rum sauce. At the end of the line were waitresses carrying coffee pots.

Mayfly dug her spoon into the carmelized sugar, scooping out the creamy dessert. "God, this…it's like an orgasm in my mouth!" she cried a bit too loudly. "Oh…sorry," she said, covering her mouth when two people at the next table looked over at her quizzically. "But seriously, it's delicious!"

"You can have mine," I offered as I flooded my coffee with cream.

"Thanks!" She grabbed my plate and plucked the dessert off, dropping it on to her own plate. "Mine!" she said, smacking away Race's hand as he reached out to scoop up a glob of the dessert with his finger.

"Excuse me," a female voice called. At the end of a table was a twenty-something woman in a silver gown that probably cost about as much as a car for a regular person. Her jewelry, which included a large diamond ring, probably added up to more money than I had ever spent in my entire life. She was semi-attractive, for a girl, though slightly too emaciated for my taste. "Would one of you gentlemen care to dance with me?" she asked, a coy pout playing on her lips.

I glanced at the other guys at the table. Skittery hadn't even acknowledged her presence, keeping his head low, Dutchy was looking at her the way I imagine he would look at an alien if it were to suddenly pop out of someone's stomach, and Racetrack was too busy trying to shove his finger into May's dessert. "I guess I will," I finally said, standing and offering her my arm like I had seen men in movies do.

The woman giggled, taking my arm in delight. "How cute," she cooed. "I'm Dominique."

"Brent," I responded as we walked to the floor. So far there was only one other couple there. The band was playing a song that I recognized but couldn't quite place. We assumed the position (doesn't that sound dirty, like we were about to engage in some perverse sexual act or something?) and began to sway in time to the music.

"So where are you from, Brent?" she purred, her fingers gently stroking the back of my neck and head.

"Uh, Louisiana," I managed to tell her while I tried to disengage her fingers from my hair. Wasn't this chick married?

"What a coincidence! I'm a Southern Belle, myself."

"Uh, yeah, that's, um, cool…" Was she grinding into my crotch?

"And what do you do?"

"Well, I write a bit. Mostly freelance stuff right now. And you?"

She smiled, showing off all of her perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth that I'm sure her husband's money had paid for. "I lay around the house and tell my hired help what to do."

"Lie," I corrected.

"Hm?" she asked, obviously taken aback.

"Uh, grammatically it should be that you 'lie around the house,' not 'lay around the house.' 'Lay' refers to an inanimate object while 'lie' refers to a living creature," I explained while simultaneously wondering it correcting someone's grammar was considered polite conversation and, more importantly, whether or not I actually cared if it wasn't.

If she was insulted she didn't show it. "Thank you for the lesson, professor," she said teasingly before twirling under my arm.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a very pleased looking Cherry stepping out onto the dance floor with an older, equally pleased, man. Right behind them were the man's wife and Racetrack who, despite throwing me a look of disgust, immediately turned on the charm as he danced with the woman. Mayfly was finishing up dessert, taking the hand of a man who looked to be in his thirties, while the man's wife was pulling a reluctant Dutchy from his chair onto the floor.

As I was looking in amusement at the array of dancers on the floor, my eyes fell upon a rather angry looking man. No, not Skittery. This man was looking at me and Dominique, his eyes blazing. Obviously this was her husband and, judging by the look on his face, he was not enjoying the sight of us dancing. To be fair, between Dominique's hand stroking my back and her hips gyrating against my groin, I didn't blame him.

"Uh, I don't think your husband likes us dancing," I whispered to her. She giggled in response.

"He'll get over it." She nodded her head to toward her husband who was leading Jan to the dance floor. "See, he has his own dance partner." And with that she simply tightened her grip around my neck.

He may have been dancing with someone else, but his eyes were still trained directly on us, watching every move. His eyes narrowed every time she touched her hand against my neck. He bit his lip when she nestled her head against my chest. When her hand clamped down firmly on my butt his face turned a dark red, almost matching the pink tint mine had taken on.. He gently shoved Jan away and stalked to where we were, yanking me away from the horny young woman.

"Just who the fuck do you think you are?" he hissed. "Who gave you permission to screw around with my wife?"

I tried not to let on how frightened I was by this man who looked like he could rip my head off with one hand, focusing instead on remaining as calm as I possibly could. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was only dancing with her. I wasn't trying to…I mean…I'm not attracted to your wife." I winced, scrambling to retract my statement. "What I mean is that…I'm gay."

He still looked doubtful. "I don't like guys trying to pick up my wife."

"In that case, why don't you dance with her?" I suggested, gently pushing her toward him. "Sir, honestly, I'm not trying to fight or start anything." I was mentally praying that the enraged man would give it a rest and go on his merry way with his nympho wife and leave me in peace.

God must have been on my side that night because the man took his wife's arm and led her away, though not before shooting me a withering glance. I let out a slow breath, brushing at the back of my neck with my hand as though I had to rid any trace of the crazy lady's touch from my skin. Stupid hetero woman causing trouble.

"Blink, save me," a desperate Mayfly whispered into my ear as she came around me, wrapping her arms around my neck just as Dominique had. "My dance partner over there is a bit too touchy-feely for my taste," she explained, "so if you dance with me, at least until he finds another partner, I'll completely love you forever and ever and I'll even stop calling you 'Blinky,'" she begged, looking at me with what I can only describe as puppy dog eyes. "That psycho woman hasn't given you a phobia of straight women, has she?"

I laughed, placing my hands on her waist. "I think I can manage for your sake."

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "You are seriously the best like whoa!"

"Like whoa?" I repeated.

"Yeah…it's like even beyond just amazing and stuff… it's like _whoa_," she told me as though that made perfect sense. The sad thing is that, to me, it did.

"I've been hanging around you _way_ too long," I informed her as the band started up a new song.

* * *

_9:45pm PST_

Medda was pacing back and forth in front of us as we sat huddled near the back of the banquet hall. Most of us were leaning on one another in an attempt to stay awake. It was almost ten o'clock and the rest of the guests had said their good-byes half an hour earlier. The waiters were busy grabbing the dishes and coffee mugs that were still cluttering up the tables. The band had already packed up, but had been offered free cups of coffee for a job well done and were currently enjoying them in the far right corner.

"Jack, unfortunately, had to leave," Medda informed us, "but he asked me to give you all your evaluations for the day and announce who has won the private date with him tomorrow." She grabbed a stack of papers that were situated on a nearby chair. "Let us start with…Ms. Bennet!" Mayfly looked up at the overly cheerful woman, obviously a bit tired from the evening. "Hm…Not bad, Ms. Bennet. You look very lovely tonight, though perhaps red shoes would have been more appropriate for that dress."

"Mmm…whatev," she mumbled with a shrug and a yawn.

"I also must express my sympathies for getting stuck with Mr. Richards. I should have warned the girls that he has a problem with wandering hands. You handled the situation very well, though, Ms. Bennet," Medda congratulated before continuing down the sheet. "The Watts said that you have a nice sense of rhythm and, with more practice, you could really impress on the dance floor." She paused, looking at the last part of the evaluation sheet, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, Mrs. Patrick says your table manners need improvement and you are persnickety."

Mayfly's head shot up. "Wait, are you serious?" she asked incredulously. "She actually called me 'persnickety?' Who the hell actually uses the word 'persnickety' anymore?" she asked me. I responded with a shrug.

"Next is Mr. Durnham," Medda said, ignoring Mayfly's comment and seeking out Skittery among us. He was located at the very back of the group, slumped in his chair with his usual "I don't give a fuck" attitude. "Your attire is fine, though a little more color may make you seem more cheerful," she suggested. Yeah, I'm sure that appearing cheerful is high on Skittery's "To-do" list. "For dance," she went on, "it says you were not open to even trying and that you seemed to have a very sour attitude. Mrs. Patrick says that, while your table manners were acceptable, you did not look very inviting and your conversation skills need work."

"What-the-fuck-ever," I heard him mutter as he slid down further in his seat.

"Mr. Keller!" I looked at Medda who was studying what I assumed to be my evaluation sheet, a small smile on her face. "Your outfit is very nice, though the eye patch seems a bit peculiar. But we can hardly fault you for that," she added quickly as if she thought her comment had offended me. "The Watts say that, while you are not the best of dancers, you showed a great effort and worked with what you had. Mrs. Patrick said that you slurped too much and that you had a very smart aleck personality, but you seemed to pick up table manners quickly. I am also very impressed with the way you handled the little 'incident' tonight. You conducted yourself with great class. Well done, Mr. Keller!" she commended, shuffling on to the next evaluation.

"Go Blink," Race cheered, clapping his hand on my shoulder.

"Sadly, Ms. Kensington was not able to join us," Medda announced as though we hadn't already noticed her absence, "so I will have to skip her incomplete evaluation and go on ahead to Mr. Higgins' evaluation."

Racetrack laughed. "I have a feeling I wasn't one of the favorites," he whispered to me, though his expression showed no sign of fret or worry.

He was right for the most part. "Mr. Higgins, your outfit, while attractive, is a bit too much and a bit too costume-y for these kinds of affairs. The Watts say that your dancing was superb, but Mrs. Patrick says that you were her least favorite person to teach, claiming that you are rude, inattentive, and childish." Medda shook her head. "Tsk, tsk! You will have to do better in the future, Mr. Higgins."

"Oh, yes ma'am," Race said with mock seriousness, "I will study hard and do all of my homework and I will be the best gosh darn reality show contestant you've ever seen!"

His sarcasm, though, was lost on the faux Swede who simply nodded. "Now we come to Ms. Sanders."

"Here!" Jan chirped, raising her hand.

"Ms. Sanders, your gown is beautiful, though perhaps better suited for a high school function. Your dancing needs work, according to the Watts. I also understand there was some trouble when you were dancing with Mr. DeWitt tonight. Something about brushes and compacts?"

"Oh, yes," Jan explained. "Mr. DeWitt wasn't telling me if he wanted me to go to my brush or my compact and that got me all confused!"

Medda's eyebrows shot up, studying the young dimwit for any sign that she was joking. There was none. "I see…" she said cautiously. "Well, Mrs. Patrick said you did fairly well, though you still cannot tell your utensils apart. This brings us now to Ms. Shown."

Cherry limply raised her hand. She was currently slouched in her chair, legs splayed out to the sides. "Please close your legs, Ms. Shown," Medda asked. "I have to start by telling you that your dress is far too scandalous for this kind of event. If you were to show up in that at a large event on Jack's arm people would think you were a hired escort, not his date. With that said, the Watts praised your dance ability and Mrs. Patrick said that, while you still have a few things to work on, overall your table manners are quite nice."

Medda placed Cherry's evaluation form in the back of the pile. "And now we have come to Mr. Svenson." I glanced at Dutchy who was busy staring at his shoes. "Your attire is nice, but your hair needs to be cut and styled so that it does not hang in your eyes," Medda admonished. "The Watts said that your dancing is clumsy, but you at least tried. Mrs. Patrick said that you tend to speak and act without thinking."

Medda placed the stack of evaluations on the chair before turning back to us. "Now you all did fairly well, though some did better than others. Jack and I took a moment before to go over the evaluations and we have both agreed unanimously on one person as the winner." She paused, her eyes looking over each of us, giving every person a moment of hope that they had been the winner. Finally her eyes rested squarely on me. "Mr. Keller, congratulations!"

Behind me a small chorus of applause broke out and an even smaller bout of whooping that I'm sure was coming from Racetrack. "Nicely done!" Mayfly said, giving me a small hug.

"Be ready to go tomorrow morning at 8:00," Medda instructed. "You and Jack will have a surprise date and will not be returning to the house until dinner."

I have to admit I was completely surprised. No, not surprised that I had won. I'm not arrogant or anything, but I felt that I had a really good chance, especially after the evaluations were read aloud. What surprised me was how I felt when Medda said my name. I'd expected a sense of joy and pride; what I felt was indifference. Even when I saw Medda's eyes connect with mine, when I saw that she was about to name me the winner, I just wanted to shrug and say "Whatever." Here I was getting an entire day alone with the man whose love I'm vying for and the first thought that comes to mind is "whatever"? Something is definitely wrong there.

As we were leaving to pile back into our limo I expressed my concerns to Racetrack. "I wouldn't worry," he said with a smile. "It's been a long day and an even longer night. You're probably just tired beyond comprehension. I could be told I won a million dollars and I'd probably have the same reaction to it." As if to prove his point he yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. "Don't worry about it," he assured me, slinging his arm around my shoulder, "just think about your date tomorrow and how glorious it will be." He gave me a small pat on the chest before adding, "And don't worry about little ol' me sitting all alone back at the house."

After he said it, I realized how much I'd rather be spending the next day back at the house keeping him company.

* * *

**AN:**…Was that chapter long enough for you? Seriously, I didn't intend for it to be so massive, it just kind of turned out that way.


	9. July 25, 8:00am to 4:45pm

_Sunday July 25_

_3:15pm PST_

Our lips were crushed together, his tongue flicking against my lower lip, asking for permission to enter. My back was pressed against a large oak tree, one of the massive roots pressing into the back of my thigh. I could feel the rough bark scratching my back through the fabric of my shirt. He was all but lying on top of me, one hand grabbing roughly at my knee and the other, in contrast, gently playing with my hair. His crotch was pressed against me and I could feel a his growing erection pressing into me.

Through this entire ordeal of passion and carnage my hands were lying limply in my lap. My mind was telling me that I should be doing more, that my hands should be emulating his. My mind was telling me to open my mouth and allow him the chance to explore. My mind was telling me that I should be thrilled, ecstatic, elated. And yet, through this all, I was stiff, frozen with uncertainty.

You're probably wondering what I'm going on about. I'm sure you've figured out that I was kissing someone, but whom? How exactly did I get here? More importantly, why was I sitting there like a lump instead of returning the favor?

I guess I shouldn't be telling this thing out of order:

* * *

_8:00am PST_

My private date with Jack began early that morning with a small town car picking me up in front of the house. I had expected the ride to include Jack's company, but I was told I would be meeting him at another location. All I had for the ride was the random chattering of the driver to puncture the awkward silence. Though I couldn't understand what he was talking about, I was grateful for him and his conversation attempt because it helped take my mind off my analysis of the situation at hand. I had been thinking about it enough since I had woken up that morning. So far this was what I had: I was going on a private date with a millionaire. A very attractive millionaire. A millionaire whose love I was currently vying for along with seven other people. But was I salivating at the thought or rubbing it in my competitors' faces or even just smiling? Nope. I was just sitting there thinking about the smart aleck Italian who was back at the house…sleeping in his boxer shorts…with no shirt. Now _that_ is salivation worthy.

I may be wrong, but something about that situation didn't seem very normal, at least not by reality TV standards.

The car pulled up in front of what looked like a small restaurant. The gold-letter sign above the small awning read "Autumn Gold" in a script font. I approached the door hesitantly, noticing the lack of other patrons in the restaurant. I glanced back at the driver who was standing patiently by the car. He shrugged in response.

"Blink!" I jumped, slightly startled. The door was open and Jack was standing there, shooting me his million dollar smile. "Sorry if I caught you by surprise there."

"Just a bit," I admitted. "Thank you for naming me the winner of the challenge last night."

He shook his head. "You earned it. I have to admit I was very impressed." He stepped to the side, holding the door open. "Perhaps you'll impress me even more today. Shall we?"

With my hands in my pockets I walked in. There wasn't a soul in sight, though I could hear the clinking of glasses and plates coming from a back room. Set up near the window was a table for two, set with two champagne flutes, two coffee cups (with saucers), and two large plates, each with a napkin folded properly on top. Jack pulled out one of the chairs, bade me to sit. "Can't say I've ever had a guy pull out a chair for me."

Jack grinned as he took his seat. "Stick around long enough and I'm sure you'll experience things you've never experienced before," he told me. I couldn't help but feel as though there was a teasing, sexual overtone to his statement.

"Ah, Mr. Kelly!" a woman cried with a slight French accent as she entered. She looked to be in her early forties with small bits of gray coming in near her temples. Her apron was crisp and perfectly clean with neither a smudge nor a crumb in sight. "How good to see you!" She rushed over to our table. Jack stood to meet her and they shared two air kisses. "And this must be the lucky man?" she asked looking at me with a sly grin.

"It certainly is. Brent," he said with a smile as I stood, "this is Autumn." We shared a smile and a handshake. "She owns this quaint little place and is one of the best cooks I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"You flatter me, Mr. Kelly," she said, giggling slightly.

"She usually closes her restaurant on Sunday, but she agreed to make an exception for me, offering to make us a special breakfast."

"Do you like omelets?" she asked as she poured coffee into our mugs.

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

"I'll take mine with cheddar cheese, mushrooms, and chives," Jack told her as he poured cream into his coffee.

"Um…I guess I'll have the same. Oh, but could I please have some bacon bits in there, ma'am?" God, did I just order bacon bits in an omelet? Is that really low class? Should I have gotten something more health conscious or more posh?

"Of course you may," she said in an almost patronizing tone. "Such a gentleman, with your 'please' and your 'ma'am.'"

"Would I settle for anything less?" Jack put in. "You know I only accept the very best." He threw me a wink and a smile and, though I returned the smile, I couldn't help but think, _Wow, what an arrogant ass!_

"Well, you young men get comfortable and I will be back soon with your orders," Autumn said as she made her way back to what I assumed was the kitchen area.

I took a sip of my coffee, my eyes darting about the deserted restaurant. "So…uh…she seems nice."

"Yes, she is," Jack said coolly. "You seem tense, Blink."

"I guess I'm just a little nervous," I explained. And I was, but not in the way Jack thought I meant. I was nervous that this date was going to get more intimate than I wanted and that I wouldn't know how to respond. Worse, I was nervous that we would find ourselves with nothing in common and nothing to talk about.

Jack, however, wasn't short on arrogance and immediately made the assumption that my nerves were due to being so awed by his presence. "Don't worry," he assured, his voice taking on a smooth, soothing tone, "I'm a person just like you."

_Yeah, I kind of figured that out already_, I thought, suppressing my urge to be a smartass.

The door to the kitchen flew open and Autumn reappeared, this time pushing a cart piled with a sizzling hotplate, various ingredients, and a pitcher of orange juice. She parked the cart right in front of our table and grabbed the pitcher. "I don't think it's too early for a mimosa," she chirped as she poured Jack a glass.

"Never too early," he agreed. He lifted his flute and held it out toward me. "Shall we toast?"

I followed suit, holding mine up to his. "Toast to what?"

Jack considered my question for a moment before asking, "Would 'To true love' be too cliché?"

I smiled, nodding slightly. "Only slightly less cliché than "To life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Beside us Autumn was busying herself, cracking the eggs and throwing in the ingredients for our omelets. "How about…to living in this moment and knowing that no matter where we go from here we'll always have the memory of this."

Jack tilted his head to the side and for the first time since I had met him I saw him drop the mask of "The Heir" and I saw him smile. Not one of his million dollar smiles that he gave everyone or one of his cheesy made-for-reality-TV smiles, but a true smile that didn't only come from his lips, but also from his eyes and his face. "I think I can agree to that," he said softly, clinking his flute against mine.

I threw back my flute, savoring the mixture of the sweet champagne and the tangy orange juice. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

_11:45am PST_

"You're going to want to step back on your right foot and extend your arm back. Then simply swing and follow through." Jack's body was pressed against mine, his arms wrapped around my body. We were standing on the tennis court of his country club and he was trying to improve my serve. At least that's what he claimed. Maybe I just fell for it. With his left hand resting on my waist, his right hand holding my wrist, and his face all but nuzzling my neck it seemed like his goal had nothing to do with tennis. I'm sure we were attracting spectators.

He stepped away from my body and I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding. "Give it a try without me," he instructed.

I threw the ball into the air, trying to stand as he had shown me. Then, with all my might, I spastically swung the racquet at the ball, squeezing my eye closed and hoping. I felt the racquet slip from my sweaty grip and opened my eye just in time to see it fly at the net and smash into the ground. The ball, on the other hand, had fallen right to the pavement and was currently bouncing behind me to where Jack stood. I could tell he was trying very hard not to laugh. Unfortunately he was failing miserably. "Oops," was all I could muster.

He bent down and scooped up the ball. "It's okay," he insisted, "I was worse than you when I first learned to play."

"Really," I asked skeptically. I picked up the racquet, glaring at it as though it was responsible for my lack of athletic ability.

"Well…no, actually I was pretty good," he admitted. He tossed me the ball. "But not everyone is good at tennis."

"Or golf," I added, thinking back to the hour before when Jack had tried to give me a crash course on the sport. Being a master of putt-putt I had assumed I would be at least decent. By the fifth time my ball flew into the lake I wanted to bend my club in half. Had I the muscle to do so I probably would have.

Jack shrugged in response. "It's not like playing football or basketball. These are different kinds of sports."

I didn't confide that I wasn't much better at football or basketball than I was at golf or tennis. Instead, I turned back to the net, narrowing my eye. I looked at the ball and racquet, willing them both to cooperate with me. I then positioned myself in the same stance, took a deep breathe, and threw the ball up.

_Whack!_ My racquet connected with what I hoped was the ball. I opened my eye and saw it sail smoothly into the net. "Yes!" I cheered, jumping up and down. I didn't care that I hadn't even scored a point with my hit, I was just happy to have actually hit the ball.

As I did my impromptu victory dance I heard Jack snickering behind me. "I've never seen you this excited."

I smiled at him, feeling very comfortable. "Well, Jack, there's a lot you don't really know about me," I said in a flirtatious tone. At least I hoped it was flirtatious.

"You're right," he said with a small smile, "I haven't gotten to know you as well as I have many of the others." He retook his place behind me, situating his hands on my hips. "I hope this date will change that," he said softly into my ear. His hand gently slid down my arm to my wrist. I couldn't help but feel a moan forming in the back of my throat which increased as his groin pressed into my ass. His warm breath was flowing across my skin and I felt a small chill go down my spine in response.

"Right now I'm learning that when you blush it goes all the way to your ears and the back of your neck," he told me. Though I couldn't see his face I knew he was smiling smugly. "And when you are tense you ball up your fist."

I stood in my place, both willing him to continue his exploration of my body and willing him to step back and let me catch my breath. His right thumb was gently rubbing across the back of my hand while his left knee was pressed between my legs as though he was forcing them to stay open.

"How about we take this to the next level?"

_Oh God, yes!_ My mind screamed. I managed to hold it in though, settling for a stammered response. "W-what?"

With that Jack stepped back, releasing my body from his grip. "The next level of your lesson," he said slyly. "Your _tennis_ lesson."

I stood still, my heart finally returning to its normal pace. The fucking tease! He stiffed me and left me with a stiffy. I hated him for that…and yet I loved it in a perverse way. "Sure," I muttered. "Let's go on to the next level." I gripped the handle of the racquet tighter, wishing it were something else entirely.

* * *

_12:30pm PST_

I kept glancing around the small country club restaurant, noting how out of place I was. The men were all in either their golf ensemble or nice suits. The women were all in either their tennis outfits or nice summer dresses. Even the children were dressed in nice clothing. I, on the other hand, was wearing my khaki pants and a green button-up shirt. Yes, it was a step above ratty jeans and a T-shirt, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that these people didn't think I belonged there. I'd have felt better if Jack had been there with me, but he had gone off to talk to a colleague about business, making me look like some riff-raff who had managed to sneak past the guard.

"Can I help you, sir?" The waiter appeared at my side, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm here with someone," I explained. "He should be back soon." The waiter didn't look convinced. At least, not until Jack slid into the empty seat.

"I'm sorry," he said to me, "I just had to discuss some things with Mr. Whitmore quickly."

With that the waiter's eyes lit up. "Mr. Kelly! How are you today?" The waiter was fawning over Jack, all but pressing his lips against Jack's ass. "And who is this gentlemen?" he asked, looking at me as though he had not been about to throw me out on my ass mere seconds ago.

"This is Mr. Keller, a friend," he said. The waiter, though, smiled knowingly. I wondered how often Jack brought male friends to this club. Judging by some of the scowls we had received when he had kissed my cheek I had a feeling he didn't do it very often.

"Ah, yes, of course," the waiter said with a wink. "The usual?"

"Something light, I think. We're going to be eating a little later as well."

I looked at him curiously as the waiter walked off. "What are we doing later?"

He shook his head, wagging his finger at me. "You don't get to know just yet," he teased.

I smiled, taking a sip of my wine. Despite my previous lethargy, I had to admit that this date was turning out to be nice. Breakfast had been delicious and both golf and tennis, though tedious and frustrating, had been fun. And now we were sitting in a very nice restaurant sharing a bottle of Chardonnay as a woman set a lovely ambience by playing the harp.

My initial reaction to Jack had been that he was a snobby heir who would never actually be interested in a guy like me. I don't know if that was because he actually seemed snobby or because I was suffering from a lack of self-esteem, but I had spent the first hour or so inwardly sulking and hoping that this day would be over quickly.

Now, though, I was hoping it would last longer. I was learning a lot about Jack and about his life. He was an only child, like me, and had grown up with his father gone a lot. His parents had divorced when he was seven and he rarely saw his mother anymore. He had been raised more by nannies than he had by his parents and had spent the bulk of his life in boarding schools. "I'm sure you know it's not easy to be attracted to guys," he said, "but it's twice as difficult when you're at a preppy boarding school. I spent a lot of my time holed up in my room. I think if my father hadn't been so wealthy I would have been beat up on a daily basis instead of just ignored."

I know it sounds like your typical whiny rich kid, but I really felt for him. I was a little ashamed about my snap judgment earlier. I assumed that being rich made everything in life easy for you, not realizing how much added pressure you had to be the ideal person at all times. I'm not denying that coming out was hard for me, but at least I didn't have to worry about "sullying my family's name." At least I had someone there to back me up and support me.

The waiter returned to our table with two small bowls of soup and two small plates of salad. "The lobster bisque and a house salad," he informed us as he set the food down. "Bon appetite!"

Jack speared his fork through a piece of lettuce while I gulped down a generous portion of the bisque. "I feel awful because I get the feeling I've been monopolizing the conversation all day. Tell me about your family."

"Well, I'm an only child like you," I began, "but my dad isn't rich or anything. He left when I was five for some exotic dancer. He sends me a card every year with twenty dollars, but I haven't seen him since he left. So my mom raised me all by herself."

"And what does she do?"

"She did some temp work when I was growing up. She had been a housewife before my dad left and she never went to college, so she really didn't have many options. Finally she got a job at a small book store. She started as a sales clerk and worked her way up the chain. She also started taking night classes at a local community college when I was about twelve. When the owner retired about five years ago he left the store to my mother."

"Wow," he said with a very impressed look, "that's wonderful." He took a sip of wine. "I think that's a true success. I know everyone says my father was successful or that I'm successful, but the truth is neither of us really had to work to get where we did. We were just lucky." He placed his hand gently over mine, his thumb stroking my knuckle. "Your mother must be an amazing woman."

Despite the fact that she could be a pain at times, especially when she stuck her nose in my business, I felt a sense of pride for my mother. "Yes, she really is," I told him with a huge grin. "She'd like you a lot."

He chuckled slightly. "Would she now? I suppose she's looking for nice, wealthy in-laws?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I mean, I'm sure your wealth is an added perk," I admitted, "but she would just like what a kind and charming guy you are."

"I take it, then, that your mother has no problem with your attraction to men?"

"Nope. When I came out to her she said she just wanted me to be happy. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive mother." My finger was slowly sliding up and down the stem of my wine glass, my mind no longer on Jack and his winning smile, but on my mother. Ashamedly, I hadn't called her once since I had gotten to the house. "Now she spends all of her free time trying to find the perfect man for me."

Jack tightened his grip on my hand. "Maybe you'll find him soon," he whispered to me. I blushed, lowering my head to avoid him seeing it.

"Hopefully."

* * *

_3:00pm PST_

"Isn't this just a beautiful spot?" Jack asked as we sat on the large blanket that had been spread across the ground. We were in the middle of a park with a lake in front of us and various plants and flowers all around us. In the middle of the blanket was a picnic basket with a bottle of wine sticking out of it. I was beginning to get the impression that Jack was trying to get me drunk.

I swatted at a mosquito on my arm. "Beautiful," I echoed, though with less enthusiasm. After a small trek through the woods I'm sure I looked like a mess. I could feel mixtures of sweat and dirt trailing down my face as the sun beat down on us.

If Jack noticed my lack of enthusiasm he didn't mention it. He busied himself with opening the wine and pouring glasses for both of us. I peeked inside the basked and saw an array of cheeses, crackers, and fruits inside. I also spotted desserts of some kind stashed in the back. My stomach grumbled in anticipation. The meal at the country club hadn't exactly been fulfilling and I was salivating at the sight of food.

Jack caught my look of hunger and laughed. "Blink, please eat!"

"Are you sure?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

He reached in and grabbed the container of cheeses and handed them to me with a pack of crackers. "Eat," he ordered. "The last thing I want is for you to pass out from hunger. Then how will I entertain myself?" he added with a sly smirk.

I didn't bother to respond to the comment. I was too busy spreading a cheese across one of the crackers. I popped it in my mouth and practically groaned. "This is good," I said, forgetting that I shouldn't talk with food in my mouth.

"That's gouda cheese," he informed me. "The others are feta, brie, and edam."

I was only half listening as I continued to savor the food. I didn't really care what any of them were called as long as they tasted as good as the first one. I took a generous gulp of wine before preparing myself another cheese-laden cracker.

Jack was picking at a bunch of red grapes, gently biting into them. His focus, though, never left me. "Would you like one?" he asked, offering a grape to me. When I reached for it, though, he pulled it from my grasp. "Open your mouth," he instructed.

"Jack, I don't think—"

"Open," he repeated and I, rolling my eye, obliged. He reached his fingers in and dropped the grape on my tongue. I closed my mouth just as he was pulling his fingers out. I don't know if I closed too soon or if he intentionally lingered, but I managed to catch the fingers between my lips. He pulled them out slowly, allowing his fingers to linger and rub along my lips. I knew it was supposed to be a flirtatious act and that I was supposed to be aroused, but as it happened all I could think was _Ew, where have his hands been_? I probably would have actually said this had my mouth not been busying chewing a grape.

He grabbed a strawberry, lay back, and began simply sucking on it as though it were the most natural thing to do. He bit into the fruit and a small dribble of juice trailed along his thumb. He offered me his entire hand and I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "No thanks."

He raised his eyebrows at my response but didn't say anything. Instead, he began sucking at the juice, his eyes still trained on me. "You should try the fruits," he said between sucks.

I know he was trying to turn me on, to make me want him, but as I watched him licking his own hand I had an urge to laugh. It was so ridiculously over the top, so forced. There was nothing really sexy about it aside from Jack being a very attractive man. It was like a high school girl's idea of what a guy wants her to do to be sexy. "Maybe I will," I told him, holding the laugh down inside. While I certainly wasn't going to respond to his "flirtatious eating" the way he wanted, I also didn't want to bruise his ego.

"There are also some chocolate strawberry tortes in there," he informed me, still sucking on the tip of his finger. "Let me get you one."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already pulling out one of the tortes and I had to admit it looked delicious. He scooped a bit of chocolate off the top and held his finger out to me. Not wanting to be rude I closed my mouth around the finger, swirling my tongue around to lap up the chocolate. I noticed Jack moan softly and I found myself doing the same, not because I was so turned on by this pseudo-erotic act but because the chocolate was damned delectable. It made me forget that I had a foreign finger in my mouth.

Jack must have mistaken my moan to mean something more, though, because only moments after it came out he had pulled himself closer. He ran his knuckles down my cheek to my chin, his thumb stroking my lower lip. His eyes were looking down my body and he was looking at me with the same hunger I had looked at the basket with only minutes before. His hunger, though, was quite different from mine. In moments we were pressed together, with his hands grabbing at me and his mouth on top of mine.

Our lips were crushed together, his tongue flicking against my lower lip, asking for permission to enter. My back was pressed against a large oak tree, one of the massive roots pressing into the back of my thigh. I could feel the rough bark scratching my back through the fabric of my shirt. He was all but lying on top of me, one hand grabbing roughly at my knee and the other, in contrast, gently playing with my hair. His crotch was pressed against me and I could feel a his growing erection pressing into me.

Through this entire ordeal of passion and carnage my hands were lying limply in my lap. My mind was telling me that I should be doing more, that my hands should be emulating his. My mind was telling me to open my mouth and allow him the chance to explore. My mind was telling me that I should be thrilled, ecstatic, elated. And yet, through this all, I was stiff, frozen with uncertainty.

Wait, you already know this, don't you? Sorry!

So why exactly was I not responding to his display of affection? It's not that he was a bad kisser. It's certainly one of the best I've had; the type that makes you see fireworks. It's also not that I'm so inexperienced in kissing that I don't know how to properly respond. I knew what I was supposed to do and I was certainly seeing a few roman candles exploding here and there. But at the core it felt so empty. There was a sense of lust and a sense of passion behind his actions, but no sense of actual care.

Yes, I am one of those crazy people who prefer not to have sex with someone just for the sake of sex. Sure Jack and I had done a bit of flirting earlier and yes we had gotten a bit touchy-feely. In my mind I wanted it to go further, but that was when I was thinking with my groin. I would have stopped it before it went too far. I'm very particular about what my lips touch and about what…well…goes _inside_ of me. I've done the whole "anonymous sex" thing and every time it's left me feeling hollow and more alone than before. When I get intimate with someone I mean it and I want them to mean it in return. Because of this some people have called me a romantic; others have called me a prude.

Whatever it makes me, I knew as Jack was working his tongue into my mouth that I couldn't let this go any further. If I did I would just be leading him on. I grabbed a hold of his hands and gently pulled my lips away from his. He looked at me expectantly. "I think we're moving a bit too quickly," I said softly. "I really like you and I've really had a great time today, but I don't want to suddenly jump into something like this." As I said the words I knew I was sealing my fate. I've watched enough episodes of The Bachelor to know that anyone who hesitates when it comes to getting intimate is given the boot at the next elimination. While I had already done some embarrassing and out-of-character things on this show I didn't want to do something that would affect me emotionally. "Can we just take it slow?"

Jack looked disappointed, but he wasn't about to force anything on me—at least I hoped not. "Come on," he urged. "You didn't seem to mind how close we were getting at the club."

My cheeks and ears flared up. "I know, but there's a difference between a little flirting and _this_. I just don't want to rush into anything."

He looked into my eyes, almost pleading. "I really want to get to know you better."

I smiled wryly. "You don't need to know my body to know me."

He let out a soft yet frustrated sigh. "If that's what you want…I guess I have to respect it," he conceded in a tone that indicated what he was feeling wasn't respect.

With that the perfect date ended with perfectly awkward silence.

* * *

_4:45pm PST_

Jack and I were taking the car back to the house to meet everyone else for dinner. He was pressed against his side, eyes looking dazedly out the window. I had been hoping that a limo would pick him up at the end of the date and take him to some important business dinner, but my luck had run out.

After I stopped our kiss we kept our conversation to a minimum, talking about how good the food was or what a nice breeze was coming off the lake. Jack hardly glanced at me and made no move to touch me, not even to hold hands. When we packed up and made the trek back to the car he walked briskly ahead, not even glancing back to make sure I was still with him.

I rested my head against the window, unsure of what to think about the situation. On the one hand I was glad I had spoken and that I hadn't allowed him to over power me; on the other hand I hated that I had ruined what we had spent the day building up. It wasn't the first time a guy had gotten angry with me for not wanting to jump right in so quickly, but it was the first time it had happened with a guy I liked as much as Jack.

I know what my mother would have said if I had talked to her about it. "Brent, it is not your job to do everything this man tells you to do," she would tell me. "If something makes you uncomfortable it's your heart's way of telling you it isn't right. You need to listen to it. If he can't handle that then he doesn't respect you and if he doesn't respect you then you really shouldn't have anything to do with him."

She would be right, of course, but I would still feel rotten.

The car pulled up to the house and Jack and I wordlessly walked into the mansion. "I'm not very hungry," I announced to him, "so I think I'll skip dinner and just head up to my room." He didn't respond, but gave me a small wave as he made his way to the dining room where I assumed the other contestants were waiting for dinner to be served.

I sprinted up the stairs to the room and flopped down on the bed. There wasn't another soul in sight. I was left all alone to sulk. "God, I'm a baby," I muttered. "The last thing I need to do is sit here feeling sorry for myself."

Looking up I saw my cell phone sitting atop my suitcase and I decided to take my mind off the entire Jack situation. I grabbed the phone, dialed the number, and lay back down as it rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom."

"Brent! Darling!" I could hear the excitement in her voice and it made me smile. "Oh, how are you?"

I rolled over on my stomach. "I'm fine," I lied. "Everything is going fine here."

"That's wonderful, sweetie. I was getting so worried because you hadn't called me. I suppose that's because you were having so much fun."

"Um, yeah, that's it," I said smiling at her excitement.

"You have to tell me all about it. What is this man like? Is he nice? Have you done anything exciting?"

"Actually mom, I'm not allowed to discuss anything. It's part of the contract."

"Yes, of course, dear. I suppose it'll be more fun if I just wait and see."

My mind went to the skinny dipping and bull riding incidents. "Yeah, mom, I'm sure you'll be thrilled when it finally airs," I told her, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. "I just wanted to know how you're doing."

"I'm fine, sweetie. Business is fine. Oh, your cousin Laura is pregnant. You remember Laura?"

"Not really," I said, racking my brain.

"Well she's a second cousin. Anyway, she's pregnant. She and her fiancé are pushing up the wedding to this September I think. You'll be home by then, so you may want to go. You could even bring this new man as your date."

"Well, I haven't won yet, mom." I'm not sure she completely grasped the concept that this was a competition.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do well. I just hope you're happy."

There was a pause. "I am happy, mom." And I wasn't lying. While I was still distraught over today's events, I was still very happy. "I don't need to win this to be happy." There was a soft knock at the door. "I have to go," I told her. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. I hope to see you soon!"

"I'm sure you will," I said. _Especially after what I did today_, I added in my mind as I closed the phone.

I shuffled to the door and threw it open. On the other side was a very abashed Jack, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head hanging slightly. I noticed there were no cameras following him. "Hey, Blink," he began sheepishly, "I just wanted to apologize for acting the way I did."

"Oh," I said, blinking in surprise. "It's okay," I lied.

"No, it's not," he insisted. "I acted like a Grade A jerk and I'm sorry. I guess I'm just so used to having people fall all over me…it was just kind of a blow to my ego."

"Jack, I think you're really cute," I told him, "and I'd like to go further with you eventually. I just don't want to rush in and potentially ruin things."

He nodded in understanding. "That's really smart and really admirable. I really do respect that, Blink."

I snickered. "I guess I'm not the reality show type, huh?"

He shrugged. "Who cares? I'm more interested in finding someone who is my type." He took a step closer, adding, "And I think you may fit the bill." He gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. "I just hope you won't judge me by my actions today."

"I won't," I promised. He bade me good-bye and I slowly closed the door. I leaned back against it, allowing my hand to touch the cheek where he had kissed me. I felt like a prepubescent girl, but I didn't care. Why didn't I care? Because a gorgeous guy had just told me he respected me and then kissed me on the cheek. That would be enough to send even the butchest man into a blushing frenzy, I think. Maybe that's what I told myself to feel manly.

I lay back on the bed, not tired, but not really wanting to actually do anything. As I lay there I realized that during our entire date that day I hadn't thought about Racetrack once.

* * *

As always, reviews, especially ones with constructive criticism, are always appreciated. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, especially those of you who reviewed when it looked like this fic was dead. You help keep me going!


	10. July 26, 10:00am to 7:00pm

_Monday July 26_

_10:00am PST_

"So then what happened?"

"After he realized golf wasn't my forte, he decided he needed to teach me tennis. He gave me a 'private lesson.'"

"Complete with groping?" My face reddened. "Aha! I knew it"

Race and I were sitting on my bed, recovering from the huge breakfast we had consumed that morning. I know he had been anxious to hear about my date with Jack the previous day, but by the time he'd gotten back to the room after dinner I was half-asleep. All he had managed to get out of me was that I had enjoyed myself before Skittery came in, effectively ceasing any further discussion of the topic. Race had begrudgingly gone to bed, though not before warning me that he wanted a full report the next day. "And don't leave out a single detail!" he ordered as he lay over me. (In the _top bunk bed_! Get your mind out of the gutter!)

"It was just, you know, a little neck nuzzling…and a little touching…" I said. My face was down, my eye focused on the floor, lest they should give away just how intimate Jack and I had gotten on the court. "He was more of a tease than anything else."

"Yeah, he strikes me as the tease kind." Race resituated himself so that he was on his back, his head hanging back over the end of the bed. "So?"

I sighed, seeing that he wasn't going to let up until I told him every sordid detail. Of course, everyone in the house wanted to know the entire story, but I had only given a vague recap of the date at the table that morning. Racetrack was the only one getting the unabridged story. I mimicked Race, lying on my back with my head flopping over next to his. "So we went to the restaurant in the country club for a small lunch and we talked about our families and stuff. We shared our 'coming out' experiences and just got to know each other better.

"After that he brought me to a park for a small picnic…and that's kind of when things started to get heavy."

"Ooo, tell me more, tell me more!" he insisted.

"Jack was flirting–not that I minded, of course–and he started doing things like feeding me and scooping up chocolate for me to lick off…" I trailed off as I noticed Race's face turning red, though I wasn't sure if it was from laughing or from the blood rushing to his head.

"He…he tried to _feed_ you?" he gasped out. "Sorry, hold on!" he said sitting up and fanning himself. "I have to catch my breath because that…that is just so…stupid! I mean, you barely know the guy!"

A sense of relief spread over me, relief in knowing that I wasn't the only one who thought Jack's behavior had been a bit ridiculous the day before. "I wasn't really into it," I told him, "but he got so insistent that I had to do something. I mean, I didn't want to hurt his pride."

Race snorted. "I think what he may need is a nice, swift kick in the ass. I mean, yeah he's gorgeous and loaded, but he seems to have a God complex." His face returned to its natural color and he took a deep breath. "Okay, so go on." When I didn't continue he looked at me suspiciously. "Come on, Blink, I don't buy that as being the end. What aren't you telling me?"

"Well…no, that wasn't the end," I admitted, though I was hesitant. I trusted Racetrack more than anyone else here and I felt comfortable telling him the juicy details of the date…but I didn't want to tell him about Jack's pushiness the night before. Whether it was because I didn't want Race to think me a prude or because I didn't want him to think Jack an asshole, I couldn't say. "We…well…we kind of, sort of…uh…kissed," I stammered out, positive that my face was as red as a beet.

I didn't look at Racetrack, not wanting him to suspect that I was lying. Well, not _lying_ really, but not telling the entire truth. My fears dissolved as I heard him chuckle. "Blink, I think you're the only person in this house who would be embarrassed to mention a kiss. Was he a good kisser?"

I let out a breath, glad to have jumped that hurdle. "He was okay. I mean, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing."

"Ooo, only okay? That's pretty harsh…or are you just picky?"

"I'm not picky."

"Oh really? How many guys have asked you out on a date in the past year?"

I furrowed my brows, not sure what that had to do with anything. "Uh…I don't know. I guess about twenty or so…"

"Damn! You get around!" Race said incredulously.

"I turned down almost all of them!" I protested.

"Why?"

I shrugged, my back pressed against the wall behind the bunk beds. "Different reasons. I mean, this one guy, Jeff, he was just too flamboyant. That's totally not my type. Then there was Andrew and he had this gap in his teeth and it was just too noticeable and distracting. Lance asked me out, but he was really into country music. Some cashier in the grocery store gave me his number…but he works in a grocery store! Then– "

"Whoa, whoa!" Racetrack cut me off, a bemused grin on his face. "I get the picture. You're definitely picky!"

"I am not!" I whined. "I just…have standards."

He rolled his eyes. "Right…standards that no one could possibly live up to, right?" Before I respond, he asked, "How long was your longest relationship?"

"Uh…four dates, I guess…?"

"What was wrong with that one?"

"…he drank disgusting beer…"

There was a long pause, followed by, "Yeah…you're _definitely_ picky."

* * *

_3:00pm PST_

My body slapped against the water harshly, forcing spurts of water to shoot up and fall in droplets around me. I clawed my way back up to the top, kicking my legs to stay afloat. I rubbed my hand over my face, removing the water from my eye. "I'm going to kill you!" I shouted to whomever had pushed me into the pool. Judging by the cackle I heard as I fell I was guessing the culprit was a very hyperactive female answering to the nickname "Mayfly."

"Stop splashing before you ruin my hair and make-up!" Smartass was stretched out on a pool chair in her bikini ("This bikini probably cost more than your car, so don't get it wet") with a pair of over-sized sunglasses cover half of her face. Her body was oiled down from head to toe as she lay tanning. In the half hour since she situated herself there she had only moved once to turn from her back onto her stomach. Even as she scolded us she didn't bother to glance up.

"Cannonball!" Racetrack flew into the pool next to me, his body creating a huge splash that soaked the ground around the pool. When he resurfaced he looked over to where Smartass still lay. "Damn," he muttered to me, "I thought for sure that would get her wet."

"I guess we'll just have to keep trying," I replied conspiratorially. "Why buy a swim suit and not get it wet?"

"I've decided it's better not to try and understand why Smartass does most of the things she does." He grabbed my hand and swam back toward the ladder. "Maybe a double jump with both of us will work."

Cherry let out a wolf whistle. "Rawr! Sexy, wet boys!" Her bikini looked like it was two sizes two small. As she leaned over to apply lotion to her legs I'm almost positive I could see a flash of areola.

"Gah!" I held my hand up to my eyes. "Remind me again why straight men like that stuff?"

"Oh come on, Blinky," Maylfy chirped, abandoning the promise she had made to me only two nights prior. "You know you secretly want breasts. They're calling out to you." She placed her hands on either side of her bust, pushing her "girls" together. "Come play with us, Blink!" she called out in a high pitched voice.

Race's hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Stop trying to brainwash the poor guy! I'll pull my package out if I have to!"

Cherry threw her head back in a boisterous laugh. "Racetrack, you say that as though it's a threat! _We're_ straight, remember?" She sat back in her chair, glancing through the latest issue of Cosmo. "Besides, we've already had the pleasure of meeting your boys, and I'm not impressed. If your stuff had to battle Mayfly's boobs I'm about ninety-nine percent sure she's the one who would come out victorious."

"…I'm not sure if I should be flattered or disturbed by that, Cherry," Mayfly said. "In fact, the very mental image I am currently having is humorous, creepy, and a little arousing all rolled into one. It's like a bad porno or something!"

"Tits vs. Nuts," I proclaimed, spreading my hands out as though envisioning a film marquee. "I can totally see it!"

"When a massive pair of breasts threatens the entire world, it's up to one courageous pair of testicles to save the day," Race announced, trying in vain to sound like a movie trailer announcer.

"Oh, yeah, make the breasts the bad guys! How about a giant penis monster is let loose and is stopped by the heroic breasts?" Cherry suggested.

"Ooh, better yet," Mayfly jumped in, "the giant penis monster is devoured by the giant Vaginazilla?"

"You're all sick!" Smartass snarled, finally moving from her place on the chair. "Are you all bloody pre-teens or something?" She stood, grabbing her towel. "I thought I could just tune you all out," she ranted. She spun around so that she was facing all of us. "But no! You just make it so impossible to relax around here!" She began slowly backing up, still glaring at all of us.

"Uh, Smartass…" Mayfly began.

"Don't! I don't want to hear what other vile and disgusting thing you have to say!"

"Yeah, but–"

"No! Whatever it is I don't care!" With that she took one more step back…and toppled into the pool.

"Shit!" Mayfly flew to the side of the pool. "I hope she didn't hit her head or anything, because I don't know CPR. You guys?"

A much more blasé Race sauntered to Mayfly. "Don't worry. With all of that hot air she's bound to float pretty well."

Smartass resurfaced, sputtering and coughing. Her mascara and eyeliner were dripping down her face in black streams. Her hair was matted to her face, with one piece sticking up like a unicorn horn. "You…" she said, looking accusingly at all of us, "you all did that on purpose!"

"I _wish_!" Race laughed. "Sadly, I can't take credit for any of this."

"I tried to warn you," Mayfly told her, looking smug. She held her hand out to Smartass in an effort to help her out. Smartass simply smacked it away.

"Don't bother!" she hissed. "I don't need you or your help!" She pulled herself from the water. Her towel was still floating in the water, soaking up so much water that it wouldn't be of much use. Still, I snatched it from the water.

"Here," I said softly, holding it out to her tentatively.

"And just what the fuck and I supposed to do with that?" she asked, eyeing the wet towel as though it were a sewer rat. "I'll be fine! I _pray_ at least one of you is eliminated tonight!" And with that Smartass, angry, shivering, and embarrassed, stomped back into the house with her nose in the air.

There was a short silence, broken by Race proclaiming, "Psh! Like any of _us_ are going home. Well, Cherry may have worn out her welcome…" he trailed off, flinching slightly as Cherry's hand smacked against his shoulder. "But Blink and I are definitely safe. I mean, Blink and Jack have already had a private day together."

"Complete with kissing and groping," Mayfly added slyly. She giggled as I blushed. "Yeah, you're totally safe. I saw the way Jack was checking you out at lunch." She sat by the pool, dangling her feet in. "I'm just worried because I haven't had much of a chance to talk to him." She pouted slightly. "It would suck to not even make it to the half-way mark."

"Mayfly, if massive boobs really _do_ attract men – and I can't exactly attest to that, mind you – you're completely safe."

Her arms encircled my torso. "Aw, Blinky! You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special!"

* * *

_7:00pm PST_

Our third elimination night and I was still as nervous and paranoid as I had been at the first. I thought that it would get easier with each one, but I found that it was the exact opposite. When there were five other guys for Jack to eliminate I felt confident that I was above at least two of the other ones. Now, though, there were only four guys, myself included, and one would be going home. I know Race was right in saying I was most likely safe. Jack had seemed especially flirtatious with me at lunch and he seemed to genuinely enjoy my presence. Still, I couldn't shake this nagging feeling that something was going to happen tonight.

I looked at Race who was standing patiently and confidently next to me. Was it _him_? Was I worried about Race being eliminated? It was certainly possible. While Racetrack and Jack got along well enough, would Race be able to fit in with Jack's world? Would Jack be worried about Racetrack's sarcasm and lack of manners?

Next to Racetrack was Mayfly. She looked as nervous as I felt. I had to smile. While she assumed the worst, I had a feeling she was going to be staying for a while. She was intelligent and able to talk to Jack about things other than sex and wealth, which was more than either Smartass or Cherry could say. May had confided in me that Jack had explained to her what his father did and that it had bored her to tears, but she had politely feigned interest, which, I think, is an important trait of a future millionaire wife is. In fact, I could see Mayfly winning this thing.

Just as I had begun to assess the likeliness of each remaining contestant winning, the doors swung open and Medda entered, once again dressed like a psychotic ballerina. "Welcome!" she chirped sweetly in that accent we had all come to know and hate. "Congratulations to you all for making it this far! You should all be very proud of yourselves." She turned so that she was looking into the camera, her face taking on a somber expression. "Sadly, for two of you the fun ends here. Tonight is out third elimination. Jack will be sending two of you home."

Yeah, yeah, yeah, lady. We know how it works. Just get on with it!

Medda returned her focus to us, looking us over one by one, smiling as though she knew _exactly_ who was still going to be here after tonight. "Let us get this underway, shall we?" She stepped back, her eyes on the door.

Jack strode in looking at us warmly, yet grimly. "Hello," he greeted, standing before us. "You all look wonderful this evening." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as though this were the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. "I regret that I must now send two of you home." He glanced at the table where the gifts we had given him that first night lay. "Before I announce my first elimination, please let me assure you all that I've enjoyed getting to know each and everyone of you. This was a…a very difficult choice for me." He smiled sadly as he continued, "But it has to be done."

He strode to the table, situating himself behind it. He looked down at the gifts and held his hand above the table. "My first elimination tonight…is Jan." He grabbed the container of lip gloss from the table and held it up.

Jan stepped forward and accepted the lip gloss. "Jan, you're such a wonderful girl. You're funny and sweet and genuine, and I admire all of those qualities. But I just don't think you're the girl for me. I'm sorry."

I'm not sure how I expected Jan to react. It's so hard to tell what goes on in her mind that I don't think I could even venture a guess. Would she cry? Would she be angry? Would she be a good loser, wishing us all the best as she left?

"Oh, wow! This is my favorite flavor! Thanks, Jack!"

…I guess she would just completely miss the entire point of the elimination and assume that the returned gift was, in fact, a gift _for_ her from Jack.

A confused Jack glanced back at Medda for help. "Jan…it's not a gift. I'm giving it back to you…you've been eliminated."

"Eliminated?"

"Yes…from the competition…in the reality show that you're on…" He once again looked back at Medda, his eyes begging for assistance.

"January," the woman said smoothly, taking the young girl's arm and leading her to the doors, "you are out of the game. You will be going home." She signaled to Jack to continue with the elimination ceremony while she tried to explain to Jan what had just happened.

Jack smiled as he watched the puzzled young girl stray to the side. The mood was lightened momentarily, all of us snickering and grinning at each other, grateful that we weren't the ones looking like idiots on television. Still, the underlying nerves resurfaced as Jack turned his focus back to the table, his eyes roaming across the strange array of objects. "My next elimination…is someone I feel I haven't clicked with. He's someone who, though I know he's a good person inside, just doesn't seem like he would fit in with my lifestyle."

_God, it _is_ Racetrack!_ I thought. I glanced to the side, wondering if he knew he was about to be kicked out of the house, if he could sense that the end for him was near.

"My next elimination is Xavier." My head snapped back toward Jack who was gingerly holding the lock of hair Skittery had given him on our first night here. A wave of relief spread over me, both because Racetrack was still here and because Skittery would soon be gone. I caught Racetrack's eyes and we shared a relieved smile. He winked at me, causing a blush to spread over my skin.

Skittery, throughout this, had not moved. His eyes were narrowed and focused on Jack, but he was still in his spot. "I'm sorry, Xavier," Jack told him, "but I just don't see it working." As he said it I noticed him backing away slightly, a look of fear glazing over in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."

Skittery stumbled forward, eyes still narrowed. I could see his jaw clenching down and his fists rolling into tight balls. "You…bastard!" And with that exclamation he flew forward and tackled Jack to the ground. "You damn bastard! I'll kill you!"

The rest of us stood in shock for a few moments as we watched Skittery and Jack scuffle around on the ground. Medda looked as though she was having a panic attack. Even the cameramen seemed stunned. Their equipment dropped to the floor as the men ran forward, grabbed Skittery and yanked him up. Dutchy also ran forward and grabbed one of the psycho's arms, helping the other two men hold him back. "I'll kill you!" Skittery repeated. Spit spewed from his mouth in rage.

Jack was being helped up by another cameraman. He looked stunned, but okay. I couldn't see any bruises or injuries from where I stood. He was helped into a chair as medic flew in.

"Get him out!" Medda ordered to the men who still held the raging Skittery. "_Out_!"

The trio of men dragged the lunatic to the door. I started to go help, but Racetrack held me back. "Don't worry," he assured me, "I think they can handle him."

The crowd of us surged forward, surrounding Jack. Smartass threw herself at him, flinging her arms around him and cooing over him as though he were on his death bed. Cherry began giving him and impromptu shoulder massage. The on-set medic handed Jack some pain relievers for his budding headache, but declared him fit. "You will want to give him some room, though," he scolded all of us, pushing us back from him.

Medda took the opportunity to fly to Jack's side. "Are you alright, Jack?"

He was rubbing his temples. "Yes…I'm fine." He looked up at us, offering a weak smile. "I…I don't know what to say. I can see I made the right choice in my elimination tonight." The crowd of us murmured our agreement.

"Jack, I think it may be best if you went to bed and got some rest," Medda suggested.

Jack looked disappointed, but nodded. "Yes, that may be for the best." He stood, but stumbled momentarily. The remaining six of us jumped forward, each grabbing a part of him to hold him up. He looked quite pleased with our support. "I'm flattered. Not many men can say they've had so many suitors help him get into bed." He righted himself and pulled away from the group. "Don't worry about me. Please, enjoy the rest of your night," he insisted. "I'll be fine." He gave us a nod before leaving with Medda's support.

No one said anything for a while. What could we say? We all looked at each other in shock. I sat down on the love seat next to Racetrack. Mayfly and Dutchy were sharing a large chair, Cherry was leaning against one of the bookshelves, and Smartass was sitting on the window sill.

"Well that was royally fucked up," Dutchy asserted.

"Are you really surprised?" Cherry asked. "We all knew he was mentally unbalanced." Though she said it in a nonchalant tone, her eyes betrayed how shaken up she was by the ordeal.

"I can't believe I shared a table with someone who belongs in an asylum," Smartass muttered, shivering as though the thought enough scared her. "I mean…he could have killed one of us in our sleep!"

I gulped, thinking about how true that was. Had he watched me in my sleep, thinking about how to slit my throat without waking me? Or maybe he was considering simply smothering me to avoid a bloody mess. "What do you think is going to happen to him?"

"What do you think, Blink?" Smartass retorted. "He'll be carted off to a padded room." She stood and brushed off the skirt of her dress. "And I say good riddance to bad rubbish. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pre-beauty sleep beauty ritual to begin!" As she strode out I didn't miss the dour expression on Mayfly's face.

"I'm going for a midnight dip," Cherry said. "Anyone want to join me?"

"Do you promise not to take your suit off again?" Dutchy asked.

"Hm…I'll think about it."

"Fine. But if I see even a glimpse of nipple I'm gone!"

The two exited, still bickering, leaving only Race, Mayfly, and myself in the library. I wasn't in the mood for another swim, especially if it meant once again facing the Breasts of Doom, as Race and I had begun to refer to Cherry's bust. I also wasn't in the mood for another movie night. Still, I didn't want to go to bed or even back to the room just yet.

"Teach me to play poker," I suddenly said to Racetrack.

"Poker? Where is this coming from?"

I shrugged. "I'm bored. It's too early to turn in. Let's play some poker." I looked to Mayfly. "You game?"

"We're not playing for money are we?"

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "No…we don't _have_ to play for money, but it isn't nearly as fun otherwise."

"I'm sure it's loads of fun if you play poker all the time, and, therefore, can walk away with your opponents' life savings, but Blink and I are relatively new at this."

"Well we have to play for _something_!" Race groaned. He sat there for a moment, his brain racing. I could all but see the cartoon light bulb appear over his head as he looked up, a large smile spread across his face. "We could play _strip_ poker…" he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't think Mayfly would like that…"I said lamely as I tried to hide my hesitation at the idea.

"What are you talking about? You guys don't give a fuck about my body, so if I get a free male nudie show I'm totally in!" The two looked to me.

"I…uh…sure," I said, hanging my head. "We'll play strip poker!"

"Should we use the rec room?" Mayfly asked. "Or are you afraid that someone will walk in on us?"

"Psh! Like I care if someone sees the two of you naked," Race said as we walked out.

I groaned, a sense of dread creeping into me. "This reality show is stealing my soul!"

"Don't they all?"

"…Shut up, Mayfly."

* * *

**AN:** Is that the last we've seen of Skittery? Maybe…maybe not…:grins evilly: We're past our half-way point and I hope to churn out the remaining chapters as quickly as I can! Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to continue going! I vow I will not disappoint!


	11. July 27, 9:00am to 10:00pm

_Tuesday July 27_

_9:00am PST_

"Blink lost his shirt," Mayfly said as she grabbed a croissant from the pastry dish. "Seriously… he had on no shirt after, like, three hands." She was currently recalling our evening strip poker game for Dutchy, Cherry, and Smartass. Well, mostly just for Dutchy and Cherry; Smartass seemed to be focusing on filing her nails and tuning out the rest of us.

Cherry guffawed. "Please tell me the cameras were there during the game!"

"Duh! Do you really think they'd miss something like that?"

"The best part is that anytime someone had to remove a bit of clothing, Mayfly insisted on shouting 'Bow Chicka Wow Wow!' at the top of her lungs," Racetrack added.

"Ugh! That was _you_?" Smartass looked up from her precious nails in disgust. "You kept me up half the night!" She returned to her nails, muttering something about us conspiring to make her life hell. Mayfly's smile of satisfaction did not go unnoticed.

"By the end of it I was down to my boxers," I admitted. "But Mayfly wasn't far behind. I think you had on a bra, underwear, and, what? Your stockings or something?"

"Hey, you guys had on both a shirt and a pair of pants. I only had on a dress. It was completely unfair!"

"You also had a bra and undies whereas we only had our tighty-whiteys," Racetrack retorted.

"I'm inclined to agree with Racetrack," Dutchy said.

Mayfly rolled her eyes at his support. "Of course, you are. All of you gay men try to stick together. It's like…I dunno…the Gay Man Mafia or something!"

"Well we have to defend ourselves from the evil Vag Monster."

"Oh, God!" Smartass shot up, grabbing her purse and portable manicure set. "If you guys are going to have a repeat of yesterday's conversation I will just excuse myself now!"

"Wait…all we have to do to make you go away is mention penises and vaginas?" Racetrack cried. "Why did you not tell us this sooner? All of those hours wasted listening to you babble on about crap could have been put to better use!"

Smartass scowled, but didn't bother to respond to Race. With her nose held high in the air, she stalked out of the dining room letting everyone know that, if they wanted to find her, she would be in her room.

"Must be hard for her to sit so long with that pole up her ass," Dutchy commented as he watched her leave. "Honestly, I can't believe she's still here."

Cherry let out a short laugh. "I can! As much as it pains me to admit it, she's got a lot of what Jack is looking for. She's rich, educated, pretty, and classy. Well, she's classy when she's not making death threats against us," she amended. "She will make some man a nice, big trophy wife some day and it could be Jack."

"So you consider our chances to be slim to none in comparison?" I asked. "Why even bother sticking around?"

"I never said she was a sure thing, Blink, just that she had a very good chance. Besides, even if this thing were completely rigged – and I'm not all too certain it isn't – I'd still stick around as long as possible simply for the free food, free booze, and shirtless men."

"Don't you already get those things being a high-class whore?" Dutchy emitted a soft squeal when Cherry's stiletto boot came in contact with his shin. "You're just touchy because it's true."

"But don't you think Jack is looking to have or adopt kids some day? I mean, could you really imagine Smartass being a mother?" Mayfly asked, obviously trying to stop the spat from going any further. "I could so see her going Joan Crawford on the poor things."

"Better yet, can you imagine how fat she'll get?" Racetrack put in gleefully. "I hope she's one of those women who gains fifty pounds more than necessary when she's pregnant." He pondered this idea, a bemused smirk on his face. "I kind of hope she does win, just so that when she balloons up there may be pictures of her for me to mock."

"_Damn_, you're vicious! Remind me never to get on your bad side!"

"Blink, you could never be on my bad side. I think it's, like, metaphysically impossible, or something."

Cherry stood, dropping her napkin on the table in front of her. "I think I'll slip out now before you guys start tonguing." I could feel my face grow hot as I glared at her. "I'll be taking a nap."

"Nap? It's morning!"

"You don't understand, May. This is when her clients usually leave for work and she can finally go to sleep."

"Dutchy, if you insinuate that I'm a prostitute one more time I will do to your man-bits what the mechanical bull did to Blink's." Cherry tapped her foot harshly against the floor, as though to validate her threat.

"Fine, fine," he muttered under his breath. He followed suit, telling us that he'd be in his room and please don't disturb him.

"Let's go bug Smartass," Mayfly suggested with glee as we discussed our options for the day. Jack had a business meeting he had to attend and wouldn't be here until dinner that evening. "We could all just sit around saying nothing but 'penis' and 'vagina' and 'cu–'"

Race slapped his hand over her mouth. "As much as bugging Smartass has become one of my favorite pastimes, I think we'd bet lay off a bit."

"Whoa, are you _defending_ Smartass?" I had half a mind to check for the apocalypse.

"Of course not," he said with an eye roll. "I just think that by bugging her we'll come off as being too stupid to find a better use for our time and TV audiences will root for us to go down. Besides, I'm still not completely sure that Skittery was the only psycho who was cast for this show."

"Ooo! Afraid she'll go Carrie on us?"

"…I said she was 'psycho,' Mayfly, not 'psychic' or 'telekinetic' or whatever." He finished off his coffee with a large gulp. "Anyway, I don't see Smartass ever wanting to get her hands dirty in the process. She seems more like the hit man type," he surmised.

Mayfly sighed in frustration. "Fine, we won't go bug her. But since you shot down my idea you have to figure out how to keep me from being bored," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Race.

"And if I don't?"

"I will bite you."

"Ew…then you'll turn into a woman and grow a vagina," I warned Racetrack, "so you'd better do as she says."

"What? Are you guys dependant on me?" he asked. "Sorry, but I kind of wanted to have some alone time. Nothing personal," he assured us with an apologetic smile, "I just feel as though I'm suffocating here."

I tried not to let my disappointment show. I could sympathize with his need to get some time to himself, but I still took it as a sign that whatever I may have thought was between us, be it platonic or romantic, really wasn't quite what I thought. At the end of the day this was a competition and, as much of a reality show cliché as it is, these people were not here to make friends. "That's fine," I said, my tone level. "We all need some time to ourselves."

"Are you bailing on me too, Blinky?" Mayfly asked with the best Bambi eyes she could muster. "Are you going to leave little 'ol me all alone?"

Race nudged my shoulder. "Blink, how can you say no to a face like that?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Seriously, though, you guys spend some time together. I mean, didn't you want to educate Blink in the world of musical theater?"

When she heard that, Mayfly's face lit up. "Yes! Blink, this would be a great time to show you how much you've been missing out on by ignoring your gay man urge to belt show tunes and do high-kicks and time-steps!"

I'm sure I must have looked terrified as Mayfly went from a doe-eyed ingénue to a crazy-eyed theater geek in a matter of seconds. "Uh…shouldn't we wait until Racetrack can join us?" I was grasping at straws. "After all, I think he's been missing out on that urge too."

Race doubled over in laughter. "Please, Blink, don't pull me into this. I've paid my debt to the theater geek girls and if I have to listen to Ethel Merman one more time I may have to shoot someone." He gave a short wave as he walked out, leaving me with the hyper theater dork.

"Okay, we'll go to the media room. I'll grab my CDs and DVDs and meet you there soon. I know we've gone over _Rent_, _Zanna, Don't!_, and _Last 5 Years_, so I'll try and delve more into the obscure stuff." She turned to run off, but froze for a second before turning back around. "If you bail on me," she said, her finger poking into my check, "I will hunt you down!"

"I won't bail," I promised half-heartedly. "I'll be there."

"Good!" She gave me a tight, asphyxiating hug before running back off to her room.

* * *

_2:00pm PST_

"I listened to _Seussical_, Racetrack. _Seussical_!" The two of us had finally found ourselves alone since that morning. "If I have _Cat in the Hat_ nightmares I will blame you! I will wake up and wake you up and make you calm me down until I can fall back to sleep."

He raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean you'll have to sleep in my bed while I hold you and stroke your back?" He teased.

"It's not funny, Race!"

"It's actually _quite_ funny."

I groaned as I lay back on my bed. I grabbed the pillow and pushed it down over my face. "Trying to suffocate yourself, Blink?"

"No…" I said in a muffled tone. "I'm just trying to expunge any thought of Horton the Elephant and The Sour Kangaroo from my brain." I threw the pillow off, partially to glare at Racetrack, but mostly because I needed air. "You threw me to the wolves."

"Mayfly is not a wolf."

"Fine – you threw me to the musical theater nerd. That's even worse!" I sat up and glared at him. "You left me alone."

He rolled his eyes, a good natured grin playing on his lips. "Poor baby." When he saw that I was not amused the grin dissolved. "Blink…you're not seriously angry about that, are you? I mean, it was one day that I went on my own. Not even a day – it was three hours! You didn't seem so concerned leaving me alone when you and Jack had your private date."

"…Don't try to change the subject with logic…" I sighed, realizing how much I was beginning to sound like a petulant child. Race didn't owe me anything and not spending the morning with me didn't make him a bad guy. I had become clingy. I hate being clingy. "I'm sorry, I'm not angry at you…or Mayfly…even if she _did_ force me to learn the opening number of _A Chorus Line_." Race cackled at that, forcing me to smile in return. "I guess I'm just…"

"PMSing?" Race suggested.

"Uh, not humanly possible. I'm just antsy and moody, I guess."

"Maybe when Skittery left he magically bestowed his insanity trait on to you."

"I don't think I'm _that _bad!"

"I don't know…I may have to start sleeping with one eye open."

"You weren't doing that to begin with?"

"Nah, I figured Skittery would kill you first and that would wake me up in time to escape."

I smacked him playfully on the shoulder and received one in return. "I am sorry for acting like such a girl."

"You weren't _that_ bad," Race said, making a face. "I mean, it's not like you and I suddenly feel the need to go to the bathroom together." He paused, before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Unless…"

"Get your mind out of the gutter." I shook my head. "I swear, you are the most sex craved person I've ever met." Any further discussion of Race's sexuality was cut off by the jingling of my cell phone. "It's probably my mom," I explained to him as I sorted through my suitcase to find it. "Hi, mom."

"Hello, sweetie! I was just wondering how things were going."

"They're fine."

"Hi, Blink's mom!" Racetrack called loudly.

"How, who was that? Is that Jack?"

I laughed. "No, that's just one of the other contestants."

"Oh." She paused. "Is he cute?"

My face reddened. "Yes, mom," I replied, trying to keep my response as vague as possible. The last thing I needed was for Race to know I thought he was cute.

"Well, if nothing else perhaps you can bring him to Laura's wedding. I did tell you about Laura's wedding, didn't I?"

"Yes, mom, uh, you did." Race had begun trying to grab at the phone and it was a struggling match to keep him from getting it.

"What is going on? You sound like you're fighting."

"It's nothing. Racetrack – the guy – he's just being difficult. He's trying to grab the phone."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Brent, let him have the phone!"

"But mom!" I whined, not wanting my mom telling Racetrack embarrassing stories or vice versa.

Racetrack snatched it from my hand, and sprinted into the bathroom. "Hello, Mrs. Keller!" he shouted before shutting the door and locking it.

"Race!" I banged harshly on the door. "This isn't funny! Give me my phone back!" From inside the bathroom I could hear laughter, likely at my expense. "RACE!"

"Blink!" He shouted. "Your mother and I are having a pleasant conversation. I will give you back the phone when we are done. Now shush. Your mother said if you don't stop that I should give you a whipping."

I pouted, unsure if he was making that up or not. With my mother it was sometimes hard to tell. I situated myself on my bed, arms crossed, lower lip jutted out, as I waited for my so-called friend to exit the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Racetrack came out and tossed me the phone. I glared at him. "Your mom said she had to go, but to tell you she loves you and wants you to get laid as soon as possible."

I closed my eyes, trying not to think about my mother saying the word "laid." "You're making that last part up."

He shrugged sheepishly. "Well, yeah, that part wasn't true. The part about loving you was, though."

I snorted. "Yeah I can see how much she loves me. She made me let you talk to her."

"Hey! I think your mother seems nice. Why shouldn't I want to talk to her?"

I ignored his question. "So what embarrassing secrets did she tell you?"

"Well, she told me that when you were a kid you had a stuffed porcupine you called Stuffy. You refused to eat mashed potatoes until you were ten. You watched your tape of The Chipmunk Adventure so much it wore out. Your favorite color is blue, your favorite food is spaghetti, and your favorite sexual position is the Lotus."

"Wh-what?" I sputtered out.

He grinned impishly. "Okay, I made that last one up too."

I groaned. "You are such an ass."

"Yeah, I am," he agreed, almost proud of it. "But seriously, your mom seems like a cool lady. You shouldn't hide her from me."

"How do you know that I wasn't hiding you from her?"

"What?" he asked with a look of mock surprise. "Me? Why would you want to hide me from your mother? I'm a parent's wet dream for their child! Parents _love_ me!"

"Yeah, I can see how parents would want their son to be dating a vertically challenged, male, sex crazed blackjack dealer who smokes."

"Well, it's the kind of person I'd want _my_ kid to date. None of those wussy, clean-cut guys."

"Like me?"

Race studied me for a moment. "I don't think you're_ that_ clean-cut. I think you have a secret dark side that you don't like to show."

"Sadly, I think it's come out during my time spent here."

"Are you still harping on those things?" He looked at me incredulously. "So you went skinny dipping. So you rode a mechanical bull. So you made out with Jack. You're human! It doesn't make you a bad person."

I sighed in resignation. "I know, I know. I just feel like six months from now I'm going to be sitting in my living room, watching TV, and wincing."

There was a small bout of silence and then Racetrack's hand fell upon my arm. "I hope six months from now you'll be able to watch the show and laugh about it."

* * *

_6:00pm PST_

My cheek was resting against my hand as I sat at the dining table. I was looking vacantly down at my plate of prime rib and greens as I poked at the food with my fork. The day had been kind of a downer, starting with Racetrack's abandonment – which I still couldn't quite get over – and ending with the realization that people were going to see me on television acting like a complete fool.

No one commented on my dour disposition, though it could have had something to do with Jack's presence at the table.

"We hardly get to see you anymore, Jack," Smartass cooed, softly stroking his hand. "I hope this isn't a sign of things to come."

"Things have just been busy and, unfortunately, they've interfered a bit with my meeting all of you," he insisted.

Cherry snorted. "Shouldn't you be paying others to do your work?"

Jack smiled, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but that's not the way it works. I have a responsibility."

"Yes," Smartass cut in, shooting Cherry a withering glance, "I know all about having responsibilities."

"Mm, I'm sure you had many responsibilities growing up," Racetrack chimed in. "Like cooking and cleaning. Oh wait! Your maids did all of that!"

Smartass' eyes narrowed. "I have responsibilities in other ways. Like the responsibility to keep my family name from being tarnished."

"Guys," Mayfly cut in before Racetrack could respond, "You know I love your little smack-downs as the next person, not to mention that if you kill each other its less competition for me," she added with a playful smirk, "but can we have just one meal where the two of you don't end up at each others' throats?"

"Yes," Jack said, "please don't fight." The grin on his face contradicted his "request." I'm sure he wanted one of the fights to escalate into a bitch-smacking fight. "We are all mature adults here, so we should be able to get along."

"We may all be adults here, Jack," Smartass said with her sweetest smile, "but maturity is a matter of opinion."

I groaned, further wrapping my hands around my head, covering my ears, as though it would make the entire thing disappear. The mealtime spats, which had, at one time, been a source of amusement, were now just annoyances that pushed me even closer to the edge. This entire thing was beginning to wear on my nerves. From across the table I caught Mayfly's sympathetic grin which I returned.

Smartass was continuing, avoiding Racetrack's ice cold glare. "I just don't think everyone here has the maturity that you–"

"Sh!" Dutchy cut her off, his brow furrowed.

Smartass frowned. "You do not have to be so rude!"

"Shut it!" he said, this time with more force. "Do you hear that?" Everyone at the table stopped eating and strained to hear whatever Dutchy was referring to. There were some soft voices and the sound of scuffled footsteps. "What is that?"

The voices and footsteps grew closer, along with obvious grunts of a struggle. "Let go!" someone screeched. "Let go now!" We nervously glanced around at the cameramen who looked as confused as the rest of us.

"Stop him!" The voice was close and we all jumped up at it. A second later the dining room door opened to reveal Skittery standing there in all of his psychotic glory. His eyes were dark with loathing and his entire body shook. From where I stood I could see a glint from his hands.

"Holy shit! He's got a knife!" I shouted. The women all screamed and ran to the back of the room toward the door to the kitchen. Dutchy stood in his place, face pale white. Racetrack stepped in front of me as though to protect me from harms way. I would have laughed at the idea of this man, who was so much shorter than I, was stepping in front of me to protect me, but the situation had me trapped by fear and I couldn't find it in me to laugh at anything.

"You…" Skittery trailed off, pointing the knife up toward a very frightened Jack. "You ripped my heart out and…and stomped on it! You bastard!" He lunged toward Jack, but was stopped by two cameramen. They grabbed his arms and wrestled him to the ground, twisting his arms behind his back. "Let go! I'll kill you all!" he grunted as he struggled to break loose. The knife fell from his hands to the ground and was scooped up by one of the remaining cameramen.

"Is everything alright?" Medda flew in looking frazzled. "Get him out! Call the police and get him out!" she ordered. The men nodded and carried the psycho out kicking and screaming.

"Jack, darling! Are you okay?" Medda pulled out Jack's chair for him to sit. "Are you hurt?"

"Pst!" I turned to see three heads poking out from inside the kitchen. "Can we come out?" Cherry asked. I waved them out.

"It's fine now…I hope."

"I'm sorry," Jack called out to all of us as Medda doted on him. "I…never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this would happen. I can assure all of you, though, that I will make your safety a top priority."

"Oh, you poor baby!" Smartass cried as she ran to him. "You couldn't have known that this would happen!"

"Miss Kensington," Medda cut in, untangling Smartass from Jack, "I think Jack needs rest. He has had quite a scare." And the rest of us haven't? "I do hope you will enjoy the rest of your meal without his presence."

Jack was helped from the room by two of the crew members. As much as I felt for the guy, I thought it was a bit overkill. It's not as though he had actually been hurt. Still, he all bade him goodbye and wished him well before silently returning to dinner. I can't speak for anyone else, but I had pretty much lost my appetite. "This thing just gets crazier and crazier."

"I don't really feel that safe," Cherry commented. "What if he gets back in?"

"You can always drop out of the competition," Smartass commented with a smug grin.

"What? Are you and Skittery in on this together? He scares everyone off so you win?"

"Ha! I don't _need_ the help, Racetrack. If you're looking for a possible saboteur I suggest you look no further than the mirror. I'm sure you and 'Blinky,'" she said, referring to my nickname in a mocking tone, "are plotting something."

"Just because he actually likes me doesn't mean we're in an alliance together."

"You've got the hots for him," Dutchy proclaimed. "I saw the way you jumped in front of him to keep him safe."

At that Cherry began laughing. "You're, like, a head shorter than him! How did you hope to protect him?"

Racetrack's cheeks grew red. "I didn't want him to be afraid," he muttered. "Blink knows that."

"You should have been watching out for Jack," Smartass said snidely. "He's the one you're supposed to be trying to woo."

Racetrack snickered. "Yes, I can see that you really had his back. I believe you lead the group of screaming girls into the kitchen. Boy, was he ever lucky to have you!"

"My screaming alerted people to the fact that Jack was in trouble!" Smartass shouted. "I can't help that I've no experience in protecting people. I'm not a body guard, you know." She stood, dropping her fork to the plate with a loud clatter. "I'll be heading up to my room now," she announced, her eyes still on Racetrack. "If you want to deny your feelings fine. But I think in doing so you're being unfair to Jack." With that she was gone, leaving behind a red-faced Racetrack and uncomfortably silent Mayfly, Dutchy, and Cherry.

And me? I was blushing and trying not to look up. I was flattered at the thought of Racetrack having feelings for me. I was surprised at his reaction to the accusation. I was angry at them for talking about me like I wasn't there. I was confused by the entire situation. I was tired.

"I'll be going too, I think," I said softly. "I kind of wanted to just rest a little." I left, waiting for Racetrack to run after. Hoping that he would run after. But he didn't.

* * *

_10:00pm PST_

I spent the remainder of the night alone in the room, half-reading the novel I'd been working on for about a month, and half-thinking about what had happened at dinner. Not the Skittery part (that had been scary, but I was over it), but the part after that. The Racetrack part. My feelings for Racetrack had grown increasingly confusing over the past couple of days. I knew I was here to win Jack (how awful of me to refer to him like that, as though he were nothing more than a prize?), but I couldn't deny that Racetrack was there. He was attractive. He was funny. He was snarky. He looked out for me. Well, usually, I reminded myself, thinking back to that morning. He seemed to be interested, and I couldn't deny that it excited me. I hadn't been this excited by a possible love interest in…well…_ever_.

The door creaked open, disrupting my thoughts. Race peeked in and, when he saw me lying there still awake, he smiled sheepishly. "Thought you'd be asleep by now."

"Thought or hoped?"

He didn't answer, but simply shrugged. "I'm sorry about what happened at the dinner table. I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable….though I'm guessing it did."

"Don't worry about it."

"I just don't want you to think that I'm trying to…you know…_get_ with you. I mean, you're a great guy, no doubt, but I'm just trying to be a good friend." The smile froze on my face as he said this, and I hoped that the disappointment I felt didn't show in my eyes. "We're both here for Jack and I don't want to mess that up for you." When I didn't respond he neared the bed. "So are we still friends?"

"Yeah," I choked out. "We're still friends."

He grinned, apparently buying the act. "Good."

I continued smiling as he went into the bathroom to prepare for bed. As soon as the door closed, though, I turned over, burying my head into my pillow with an angry sigh. _Damn the man!_

* * *

**AN:** I kind of feel evil for making Skittery the psycho! Anywho, we're nearing the end of the show! What will happen? Who will win? Who will Blink choose (or will he choose anyone)? All of these will be answered! I promise!


	12. July 28, 9:30am to 7:20pm

_Wednesday, July 28_

_9:30am PST_

"Someone's Mr. GrumpyPants this morning," Cherry teased the next morning as we sat around the table eating breakfast. Even without looking up, I knew she was talking about me. I'd woken up that morning in a bad mood and I hadn't stopped it from exuding from my pores as I went down to the dining room. I'd entered, mumbling a greeting to the others, and proceeded to sit in the chair that was situated farthest away from the group.

I didn't bother to respond to Cherry's observation, instead focusing on the eggs on my plate. I wasn't trying to be such an ass, but I really wasn't in the mood to talk to everyone at that moment. If they'd asked what my problem was, I wouldn't have been able to tell them. It was just one of those days when you wake up feeling "blah" for no reason – "The Mean Reds," as Holly Golightly would say.

I heard someone plop down in the seat across from me. "What's wrong?" Mayfly asked in a sincere tone. The absence of her "pet name" for me indicated to me that she recognized that I wasn't in a good mood and was treading carefully. "Did something happen?"

I shrugged, hoping to play the entire thing off. "It's nothing, really. I'm just having one of those days."

"You and Race have a lovers' spat?"

"Smartass," Mayfly chided, "stop being such…a smartass! Blink is obviously having a tough day and I don't think he needs you to rubs your bitchiness off on him."

Smartass rolled her eyes. "Yes, because you all care _so_ much when _I_ don't want to be bothered."

"Guys, it's fine," I insisted, cutting in before a fight could erupt. That would only exacerbate my sour mood, especially if it was a fight about me. Besides, I couldn't deny that Smartass had a point. She had to put up with our snide comments day in and day out, so I could certainly handle her jabs at me. "Smartass has a right to say whatever she wants. I'm tough; I can handle it." I looked pointedly at Mayfly. "I don't need you to try and protect me all the time."

She looked hurt and I regretted my words. "Okay, Blink. I just wanted to help." She stood and set her utensils on her empty plate, telling us, "I'm going to call my family." With that she left the dining room.

"Well, things are certainly changing around here, now aren't they?" Smartass commented with a gleeful grin after the doors had closed behind Mayfly. "Everyone thinks I'm such a bitch for not wanting to waste my time with petty friendships. I'm just playing the game. You guys, though…you pretend to be so close and then you get at each others' throats when push comes to shove."

"I wasn't trying to be mean…I'm just getting a bit antsy."

"Whatever you say, Blink," Smartass said in a patronizing tone. "Anyway, I hope you are all well-rested for today."

"Why?" Dutchy asked.

"For today's challenge," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What? Are you sleeping with the production team to get a sneak peek at the show's schedule?" Racetrack commented snidely.

Smartass gave a short laugh. "Who do you think I am? Cherry?" She ignored the death glare Cherry gave her and continued. "Think about it: We haven't had a challenge since the last elimination and tomorrow we have our next elimination. I think there is an excellent chance that today will be another challenge."

"Does your crystal ball tell you what said challenge will entail?" Dutchy was trying to pretend like he wasn't interested, but I could tell he hoped she would spill all she knew.

She wagged her finger at him with an impish grin. "Even if I did know, do you really think I'd share that information with any of you?" She laughed at the very thought of it, looking much happier than she had during our entire time spent here. "I am really enjoying how now, when the faux friendships are falling apart, everyone is now looking to suck up to me." She leaned in, her elbows resting on the table. "I can assure all of you that it is not going to happen." She gathered her things from the table and sauntered to the door, throwing us a smile over her shoulder, accompanied by a cheery, "Ta-ta!"

We were all silent for a moment, thinking about everything Smartass had said, from her hints of a challenge that day, to her assessment that our initial friendships were falling apart. Between the distancing relationship Race and I were beginning to have and the spur of the moment falling out Mayfly and I had just had, I couldn't argue with her on that one.

"Oh, what the hell does that pompous princess know anyway?" Cherry grumbled. Her face was dour and I could see that she too was beginning to grow cynical about our ability to remain civil towards each other, especially now as we were getting to the nitty gritty of the competition. Tomorrow night we would have another elimination and two people would be gone. Two days later four would become two and then two would become one. And at the end of the day, weren't we all here to be that one?

"Don't let her mess with your heads," Racetrack told us. "She may be a bitch, but she's crafty. She's worried about her chances of winning and she's trying to psych us all out." When he saw our skeptical looks, he added, "Seriously! Don't you guys watch reality shows? There is always that one bitch who is kept around for drama, but who has no chance of actually winning. Smartass knows she's been pigeon-holed as the bitch in the house."

"She is right though," I spoke up softly. "We're going to get more and more bitchy to each other, probably say things we don't mean. We can't all win, you know."

"Winning isn't everything, Blink."

"That's so cliché, Racetrack," Cherry said with a snort. "Sure, winning isn't everything, but it's much better to win than it is to lose. I mean, you guys are cool – at least in comparison to some of the other people who were here before – but I'm not going to lose for any of you. I intend to win, and if that means stepping on you…" she trailed off with a nonchalant shrug.

I gulped down the rest of my orange juice. I felt as though I had to get out of there and just get away from them all, at least for the time being. I wanted time to just sit and not have to think about the fact that I was in a competition. "I think I'm going to hole up in the library for a while," I announced. "Just relax, you know?"

They nodded and none of them offered their company. Whether it was because they saw that I wanted some alone time, because they didn't want to hang out with me while I was in a bad mood, or because they simply didn't care one way or another, I was both grateful and disappointed to know that I'd have a few hours of solitude.

* * *

_12:30pm PST_

I looked warily at the large, inflatable baby pool that sat before us. It was empty, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be like that for long.

"Another swimming challenge?" Racetrack joked. As Smartass had suggested, we had all been summoned to be downstairs in the backyard that afternoon. They had instructed us to wear our swimsuits, but they hadn't hinted at what we might be doing. I only hoped it wouldn't involve skinny dipping again.

"Oh my…I think I'm going to barf!" Mayfly hissed to us. She seemed to have forgiven me for what I'd said to her earlier that morning and things were once again back to normal amongst the group of.

I looked to where she was pointing and it took everything I had in me not to vomit right there. Walking toward us was Medda, dressed, as usual, in a bright pink ensemble. What made this outfit so different was that it was an early 19th Century bathing suit, complete with stripped stockings and a parasol. I was beginning to wonder if the woman even looked in the mirror when she got dressed or if crazy outfits were simply a part of reality TV protocol.

"Hello!" she chirped merrily as she approached. "How strange it is to see six when we started with twelve. I can see, though, that those of your remaining are the cream of the crop!" She closed the parasol and held the tip into the ground, leaning on it like one would lean on a cane. "And tomorrow we will be down to only four. I think at this point, it is anyone's guess who will win the heart of our young bachelor."

She seated herself on one of the two the small folding chairs that had been placed before the baby pool. "As you all may have guessed, today will be another challenge and, as usual, the winner will have a private dinner with Jack tonight. However, I will let _him_ tell you the challenge and the rules." The faux-Swede looked off to the right, calling out in a shrill voice, "Oh, Jack!"

He rounded the corner, looking as gorgeous as always and smiled his mega-watt smile, making all of us swoon a little on the inside…or maybe it was just me. "Congratulations to all of you for making it this far! I can assure you it's been just as rough for me as it has been for you." Ha! Fat chance. "And it is only going to get harder, especially now that I've narrowed it down to three beautiful women and three gorgeous men. Choosing just one of you will end up being the most difficult decision of my life." Jack took a seat beside Medda and gestured to the pool. "I'm sure you've all noticed the kiddie pool sitting before you." As we nodded, he continued. "Today's challenge will pit you all against each other…as you wrestle in a pool filled with whipped cream!"

My jaw dropped and I glanced around the gauge the reactions of my fellow contestants. Cherry was licking her lips, perhaps in anticipation. Smartass had a look of steel and determination in her eyes. Racetrack looked both amused and perturbed at once. Dutchy looked like he was going to shit a brick. Maylfly looked as though she was hoping that this were all some joke. I can't say I blamed her. Whipped cream wrestling was just about as low as one could get and I couldn't believe that this show was going to stoop to that level. Sure, it was reality TV and, as such, it was bound to have its share of tackiness and shamelessness, but even this show seemed to be classier than those MTV and VH1 reality shows.

It was no joke, though, as a crew came out and began spraying whipped cream into the pool. "Isn't this a bit…um…I dunno, cheap?" I asked as I watched the puffy, white whipped topping spray against the plastic tub.

"Come on, Blink! Have a sense of humor," Jack said.

"If you're too afraid to go up against us, you can always sit this one out," Smartass told me with a smirk. "Just go sit in the quitters section."

I gulped, tempted to do just that. My mind returned to a week ago when I was pressured into going skinny dipping and how guilty I'd felt after that. Now here I was, again being asked to do something about which I really didn't feel comfortable. I could always sit this one out, but I'd be running the risk of suffering the same fate Swinger had when she'd opted to stay covered up during the impromptu skinny dipping. It would be a shame to have come so far only to be sent home because I didn't want to get into a pool of whipped cream. Then again, it would be a shame to have exploited myself only to lose in the end. I mentally weighed my options.

"To win you will have to successfully push your opponent out of the pool," Jack explained. "The only rule is that there is no scratching or biting."

"We will have two people compete at a time," Medda explained. "Our first competitors will be Brent and Ian."

"Actually…I think I'd like to sit this one out," I said, stunning everyone, including myself. I knew I was as good as eliminated, but I still felt a sense of pride as I said it.

Medda's eyebrows shot up and she shared a glance with Jack. "If that is what you want to do, Brent, that's your right. If you want to ruin your chances with Jack just because you can't get a little dirty, then it's your own choice." She didn't actually say that last part, but I knew she was thinking it. "I suppose that we will have Ian and Vincent start off the competition and then we will have all three women compete at once."

"I'm sorry, Jack," I said as I took a seat off to the side. He, in response, shrugged, but his frown didn't go unnoticed by me. I rested my cheeks in my hands, wanting to get this entire ordeal over with. From across the way, Mayfly smiled sadly at me and Racetrack shot me a wink as he stepped into the pool with Dutchy.

Medda held a shiny whistle to her lips. "Are you boys ready?" Dutchy and Race both nodded, each staring the other down. "GO!" Her whistle shrieked and the two men lunged at each other, wrapping their arms around each other, almost homoerotically. Dutchy was taller than Racetrack was, but the diminutive Italian was scrappy and it was evident he wasn't going down without a fight.

"Your ass is mine!" Race shouted as he pressed his shoulder into Dutchy's torso.

"You _wish_, Higgins!" Dutchy retaliated by wrapping his arms around Race's waist and lifted him into the air. He probably wasn't expecting Race to then wrap his legs around Dutchy's waist. "Dude, get the hell off of me!"

"Let me go and I will!"

Dutchy jerked his body around in an effort to free himself of Racetrack's grasp, but soon took a wrong step and slipped, falling onto his back in the pool. Race stood and grabbed Dutchy's arm and tried to drag him to the edge of the pool, which proved more difficult than he had expected "Ugh, you weigh a ton!" he grunted.

Dutchy swung his foot around and caught Racetrack's leg. Race toppled on top of Dutchy and the two lay there for a moment, panting heavily. "Sorry, Race, but I'm going to have to kick your ass on this one!" He sprung up, having gotten a second wind, and flung Race over his shoulder. He slopped through the unappetizing whipped cream to the edge of the pool and dropped the short man out onto the grass, holding his arms up in victory. "Fuck yeah!"

Racetrack sat up, his eyes narrowing at Dutchy, standing there in all of his glory. The rest of the clan applauded politely and Jack nodded his approval to Dutchy. "Well, done! I can see that you would really do just about anything for me!" I winced at his words, assuming them to be a personal attack on me. "Let's see how you do against the winner of the next heat."

"Ha," Dutchy scoffed. "I think I can take any of those girls with one hand tied behind my back."

"Aw, only one?" Cherry asked with an impish grin. "Come on, ladies, let's get this done!" She jumped into the pool, kicking around the cream. Behind her, Mayfly and Smartass gingerly stepped in. "Don't be gentle, ladies! This is a competition. Or have you forgotten that, Smartass?"

"Are you all ready?" Medda asked once again. The women nodded as they sized each other up. Cherry looked ecstatic and Mayfly looked anxious. Smartass, though, looked determined and ready to go. She looked so intense, I was feeling nervous for both Cherry's and Mayfly's safety. "GO!"

There was an unspoken agreement between Cherry and Mayfly to team up and take out Smartass first, and then battle it out between themselves. It was a good plan and, had it been me and Race against Dutchy, I'm sure we would have done the same. Smartass, though, was having none of it. With one swift push she managed to shove Cherry out of the pool, leaving it between her and Mayfly, who suddenly looked terrified. "Come on," she goaded. "Are you too afraid to actually fight me?" She rammed toward the frightened woman.

Mayfly jumped out of the way, slipping in the process. "Oh crap!" I heard her shout. She struggled to stand up, slipping each time she got her footing. Smartass simply stood by and watched, almost sadistically taking pleasure in Mayfly's futile attempts. When May finally was able to stand up, she raised her hands up in surrender. "Just give it to her already!" she called out, jumping from the pool quickly.

"Ha!" Smartass called, pointing to us all. "Take that!"

"Wow," Race said in a monotonous tone. "You were able to out wrestle two women in a pool of whipped cream. Daddy will be so proud, I'm sure."

"Well, congratulations to Ian and Vaughn," Medda called out. "You have both proven yourselves and your adoration to Jack. We are now ready for the final match. The winner will get a private dinner with Jack."

Jack grinned at the two of them as they stood in the pool, ready to pummel each other into the ground. "Just remember what is at stake here," he reminded them, as though they had forgotten for even a moment that they were competing to win his love…or at least a month long engagement that would end in anger. One of those. "I hope you both give it your all, and may the best man – or woman – win!"

"Are we ready?"

"I'm ready," Smartass affirmed with a sneer.

"Bring it on, princess!" Dutchy said.

"GO!" Medda's whistle shrieked through the air and the two, whipped cream covered contestants flew at each other, arms locking around each other as they tried to one-up the other. Smartass, being the shorter of the two, immediately wrapped at Dutchy's waist, while Dutchy grabbed her shoulders.

"Kick her ass, Dutchy!" Racetrack hollered.

"Shut the fuck up, Racetrack!" Smartass replied as she head-butted Dutchy in the sternum. He let out a soft "oof" and began to lose his footing. "Ha! Didn't think I had it in me, did you?" she asked no one in particular. "You all have no idea!" she screeched with another head-butt.

"She is insane!" the battered man called out to us as he tried to ward off Smartasses finely highlighted head as it rammed into him. "I'm done! I'm done!" He jumped out of the pool and sprinted as far away from Smartass as he could, even going so far as to duck down behind Cherry.

Smartass stood panting in the pool, hair sticking out every which way and eyes blazing. Her mouth was open in a snarl, making her look almost like a bull dog. Her whipped cream covered body was shaking as she stared down each and every one of us who remained, standing between her and Jack. She looked at us, begging one of us to try and take her down. "Anyone else?"

"I think you are the winner, Vaughn," Medda said, looking a bit disturbed herself. "You have proven your love to Jack and have won a private dinner with him this evening."

"Poor guy," Cherry muttered. "He'll be lucky to come back alive." Something in her tone told me she was only half-joking.

* * *

_7:20pm PST_

"Does this skirt make me look like a whore?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, Cherry?"

Dutchy and Cherry seemed to have gotten over their initial anger of Smartass' win and returned to the comforts of their own bickering as the five of us prepared to go out. It had been Racetrack's idea, commenting on the fact that it was our first night without Smartass and, therefore, we should celebrate by going clubbing. That, coupled with the fact that there was nothing else to really do, made the idea very appealing to all involved.

"Rawr!" Mayfly purred as she approached me. "You are looking smoking hot!"

"Thank you," I said with a grin as I surveyed my outfit. I'd opted for a green and white stripped polo shirt and black slacks. "You don't look so bad yourself," I complimented as I looked over her violet halter top, black denim skirt, and black ballet flats.

"So I've decided that we should team up tonight."

"Team up? Like a date?"

"No, I mean like we each agree to save the other if either of us starts to get unwanted attention from someone," she explained. "If some low-life won't leave me alone, I'll give you a signal and you'll step in as my boyfriend. I'll do the same for you if some girl starts hitting on you. You in?"

"Sure, it sounds fine." I doubted that I would have to have much help from her, though. Clubbing wasn't really my thing and I had every intention of doing a little dancing and then situating myself in a chair to watch the rest of the evening unfold. Girls weren't usually into the guys who sat on the sidelines, so I probably would be left alone for the most part.

"Come on, guys!" Dutchy called to us from the door. "Our van is leaving in one minute and if you aren't on it you get to stay behind for the night and keep Smartass company when she returns!"

The five of us piled into the van that had been loaned to us by the production team. For once, there were no cameras around, giving us a sense of privacy that none of us had felt since we'd begun this entire thing. "It's nice, isn't it?" I commented as I sat squished between Cherry and Racetrack in the back seat.

"Going out?" Cherry asked.

"Being free of Smartass?" Dutchy added.

"Both, I guess. Really, I meant the fact that we're all going out together without the cameras following us around. It's like we're not a bunch of reality show contestants. We're just friends who are going to have fun together."

The van grew quiet as what I had just said sunk in. It was true that our friendships had blossomed under the watchful eye of the cameras, making them feel almost artificial. Yet tonight, even here where no one could see us, we had the same sense of camaraderie, mixed, of course, with a healthy sense of competition. I knew that every one of us was thinking back to the comments Smartass had made that morning about our budding friendships and have they were now weakening and crumbling under the strain of competition. Yet here we were, acting like a group of high schoolers who are going out after a school dance or something.

"Damn, Blink," Race spoke up, breaking the silence. "You really know how to set a mood."

"I think he's right," Mayfly said. "It's like, when you have cameras on you, you're really self-aware of how you act and what you say. It's hard to tell if someone is only being nice because they really like you as a friend, or if they're just playing to the camera." She suddenly looked around at the rest of us sheepishly. "Not that I'm saying you guys are fake or anything," she added quickly. "It's just one of those things you can't be sure about."

"It's okay, May," Cherry assured with a small smile. "I know what you're saying." She paused uncomfortably and I could tell she wanted to say more, but wasn't sure if she should. "Just…when you're watching these episodes, take everything with a grain of salt. I mean, you know how reality TV is."

"Well, enough with the cheery conversation," Racetrack interrupted, pointing out the window to a neon sign that read "Club Sangria" which shone above a crowd of teens and young adults - and older adults trying to _be_ young adults – who stood outside, waiting anxiously to get in. "We are here!"

"I still say we should have gone to a gay club," Dutchy grumbled as he stepped out.

Race linked his arm through mine and Mayfly followed suit, so I was flanked by them on either side. "Shall we, kiddies?" he asked, pulling me, and therefore Mayfly, forward through the crowd and into the club.

The music was, of course, both horrible and ear splitting. That, combined with the flashing lights, sweating, grunting bodies, and booze-induced dancing, gave me the idea that it was going to be a long night. I could feel a sense of claustrophobia start to set in as we pushed through the crowd toward an empty table.

"Want a drink?" Racetrack asked.

"Uh, rum and coke?" I said, not sure what I should be drinking.

"Mojito," Mayfly added.

"Oh, I'll have a beer!" Dutchy chimed in.

"Cosmopolitan," Cherry finished.

"I was actually talking to Blink, but I guess I'll be the designated waiter tonight." He jotted down our orders on a napkin before heading toward the neon lit bar.

"See, if we had gone to a gay club we wouldn't even have to go to the bar to get our own drinks," Dutchy commented. "We could have shirtless men bringing them to us. Everyone wins."

"They would be look and no touch, Dutchy," Cherry reminded him. "At least here I can get a bit grab assey with the guys." I noticed Dutchy's look soured.

"So when did you realize you were gay, Dutchy?" Mayfly asked.

"When I realized how ugly vaginas are."

"They are not!" Cherry scolded, slapping him on the shoulder. "I mean, they're no uglier than penises are…penii…penises…?" She looked to me. "Blink, what's the plural version of the word 'penis'?" I shrugged, never having really thought about it. "Whatever," she said, waving me off. "So what do you have against the vagina?"

"It reminds me of the aliens in _Independence Day_, where the bio-suits split open and there's a tiny wriggling alien inside and it's all like 'RAWR! RAWR!'" he said as though it was the most natural analogy in the world. Just then, Race appeared at our table with Dutchy's beer. Dutchy grabbed it and took a sip before adding, "And _that's_ why I don't enjoy making love to women."

Mayfly and Cherry exchanged glances, with Mayfly speaking first. "Okay, so I'm just going to pretend like you didn't just insult a part of my body, and instead reminds you that there have been movie monsters that looked like penises…penii…dicks."

"Yeah…I definitely missed something," Race commented with a sly grin. "Just wanted to let you know that the cocktails are coming up. They're going to bring them over here." He reached down and grabbed my arm. "In the meantime, let's dance!"

"Uh, I'm not really the dancing type, Race."

"What? Come on, I saw you dance at that hoity-toity banquette. You can dance here."

I fell back into my seat. "I think I'll sit this one out. Someone's got to be here when the drinks arrive," I added when I saw how disappointed he was.

"Well, I'm dancing," Cherry said, standing and brushing off her skirt. "I think I already see my partner." She waved slyly to a buff and handsome guy who was jerking about on the floor in what I suppose was supposed to be dancing. "Let me know when my Cosmo gets here."

"I'm up for some dancing," Mayfly announced. "Think you can keep up, Race?"

"Girl, you know it!" he said, doing one of those 'Z' snap things.

"God, could you be any gayer, Race," Dutchy asked before taking another swig of his beer.

The duo took off to the floor leaving both Dutchy and myself to sit by and watch the action. The waitress dropped off our drinks and sipped at the rum and coke, finding relaxation in the sweet and slightly bitter mixture of alcohol and soda. I didn't often drink mixed drinks and I guess you could call me a lightweight. Still, I felt an overwhelming need to simply get smashed that night. It was probably a mixture of my previous bad mood and the peer pressure I fit in with the other club patrons. I took another gulp as I watched my fellow contestants gyrate to the music.

"So why didn't you go?" Dutchy asked.

I furrowed my brow, unsure what he meant. "Go…?"

He nodded toward the others. "Dancing."

"Just wasn't feeling up to it."

"And now you're regretting it."

"No I'm not," I said with an incredulous laugh.

"So why are you watching him with such intense eyes?"

I blushed. I hadn't realized just how deeply absorbed I was with what Racetrack was doing, but the truth was I couldn't really look away. It didn't matter that he was dancing with Mayfly who he wasn't attracted to simply because she was female. It didn't matter that he was barely even touching anyone. It didn't matter that I could simply get up and start dancing with him whenever I wanted to. All that mattered was that he was there and I was here and he seemed to be having the time of his life without me.

"You like him." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. He can be quite…charismatic."

"That's one way of describing him, I guess." I squeezed my eyes closed as I downed the rest of my drink. "He's definitely different than any guys I've ever met."

"So tell him."

"It's not that simple."

"Why? And don't say because of the show or because of Jack. That's bullshit and you know it."

With my answers having already been labeled as "bullshit" by him, I struggled to find a reason to give him. "He…I just don't know if he's my type."

"Ah, and what would your type be?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Dutchy guffawed. "How can you know whether or not he's your type if you don't even know what your type is?"

"I need another drink," I mumbled. I didn't dare touch Cherry's or Mayfly's cocktails and Dutchy was already half-way through his beer. I caught sight of a glass with dark liquid that I guessed to be Racetrack's drink. I knew he wouldn't mind if I drank his and I, of course, would get him another one. I grabbed it and downed the entire thing in one swift gulp. It wasn't until it had completely slid down my throat that I realized how strong it was. "What…is this…?" I sputtered out between coughs.

Dutchy took the glasses and sniffed at it. "Whiskey?" he suggested.

"Just straight whiskey?" Who the hell drank that?

"Go dance," he pushed me out toward the floor. "It'll make you forget how awful that drink was."

I stumbled out to where Race was. Mayfly seemed to have found another dance partner – one who actually appreciated her feminine body – and Race was dancing solo as he surveyed the other male dancers. I noticed that his face lit up as I approached. He offered me his hand and pulled me in toward him. "Glad to see you decided to join me."

"You have awful taste in liquor," I told him with a face. "I kind of drank your…thing. I'll buy you another one, though," I promised.

He grinned, though I wasn't sure why. "It's fine, Blink. I'm just glad you're out here."

As the lights danced around me and as the ground shook beneath me, I could feel myself grow woozy. My head was beginning to spin and I leaned forward into Race, using his body as a support system. He, however, took this as a sign that I wanted to bump and grind with him. His arms encircled my neck and he thrust his pelvis into mine. My head drooped, falling down on to his shoulder. I could smell his cologne and I knew I was beginning to get a stiffy and that there was no way Race would be able to miss it, as his groin was pressed against mine.

Sure enough, his lips were soon by my ear, whispering to me, "Should I take that as a compliment to me?" When I didn't respond, he softly called my name. "Blink? Are you okay?"

I lifted my head up and saw his eyes looking at me with great concern. "I…uh…drink…drank…" I slurred out. In my mind I knew that I was doing something incorrectly, but I couldn't quite pull it together. I tried to focus my eyes on one thing to get my mind together and my eyes zeroed in on Racetrack's lips as they moved, asking me if I was alright.

"Blink? Blink, do you need to sit down?"

I fell forward and felt my lips press against his. I'm not quite sure if the kiss was accidental or intentional, but as soon as our lips met I made the choice to keep them there. Race, after his initial shock, followed my lead and I felt his hand run up my neck to the back of my head, stroking my hair lightly. His lips parted slightly, allowing my tongue to better explore.

Unlike my kiss with Jack, this one was right on the mark. I didn't question it for a moment. My mind stayed firmly on him…on me…on us…

* * *

**AN:** Dutchy's comparison of vaginas to the aliens from _Independence Day_ is actually an exact quote from one of my friends that I found so amusing (and slightly insulting, but in a good-natured way) that I knew I had to incorporate it in here somehow.

Next chapter we whittle it down to four…and then to two…and then…well, we'll see…


	13. July 29, 7:00am to 6:55pm

_Thursday, July 29_

_7:00am PST_

I never before understood just how people could whine so much about hangovers. I figured it couldn't be nearly as awful as people made it out to be. Yet, as I knelt before the porcelain god the next morning with the taste of bile in my mouth – likely from the large amount of food that I had just vomited – I realized how much I had truly underestimated this horrific ailment. "I want to die…" I moaned, leaning my cheek against the seat of the toilet. It was a testament to how sick I really felt that I was willing to allow my face to be anywhere near the toilet seat.

"First hangover?" Race asked as he placed a wet rag on my neck. I groaned in response and Race took that as a "yes." "You'll be fine." His hands were gently massaging my shoulders as my stomach rumbled.

I had a vague recollection of the previous nights' events. Of course, I remembered going to the club and dancing with Race. I even remember the kiss. After that, though, things started to get a bit hazy. I know Race had helped me back to our table, ordering me a gin tonic. Mayfly was dancing with some guy with grabby hands and Dutchy was forced to intervene and rescue her, seeing as I, who had originally agreed to do so, was somewhat incapacitated. Cherry, in the meantime, had made the rounds through the dance floor and had probably had her tongue down every guy's throat. By the time we left, I was having trouble walking. As a result, I found myself being supported by Dutchy and Race with Mayfly trailing behind, carrying a waste basket she'd stolen from the bathroom. "Aim for the basket," she had ordered in case I needed to throw up. Thankfully, all of the upchucking had commenced _after_ we arrived home.

"I don't like alcohol," I muttered, likely sounding like a child. Above me I could hear Racetrack snickering. "Not funny…not funny…"

"Sorry, I know it's not funny. You just look kind of cute."

"So you like vomit-covered guys?"

"I like cute guys."

I wanted to reply, but the food in my stomach had other plans. I threw my head back over the toilet as I puked up again. Tears were forming in my eyes, as result of both the pain and the putrid smell. "Ugh…" I groaned.

"The good news is breakfast isn't for another hour…assuming you're even looking to eat something."

"Don't even mention food to me right now."

I stood and stumbled to the sink, rinsing out my mouth until the horrid taste was gone. Then I walked back out into the room and spread out on my stomach, grabbing my pillow and pressing my face down into it.

"Do you feel better?"

"In comparison to before? Yes."

My eyes were closed, but I could hear Racetrack sitting down by the bed and I felt his hand brush my hair out of my face. I let out a sigh of contentment, suddenly happy with the world in spite of the lingering hangover.

"Blink…can we talk about last night?"

I knew what he was talking about, but I decided to play dumb. "What about it?"

"Well, you know…the kiss."

My stomach dropped. "Oh…that…"

"Blink, I really like you and all, but –"

"Race, I know what you're going to say. This is a competition and we're here for Jack. I know…I get that, and that's fine." When he didn't say anything, I took it as a sign to continue. "But, supposing neither of us is chosen as the winner, I'd like to see you…I mean, if you wanted to." Please let him say he wants to…

I heard him let out a sigh of relief. "That would be great, Blink."

* * *

_12:00pm PST_

At the request of my still queasy stomach, I skipped breakfast and caught up on my sleep. When I did wake up, it was nearly time for lunch and Race had left me a note saying he'd gone down to the pool. I groggily got dressed and made my way down to the dining room where I found Dutchy and Smartass sitting at opposite sides of the table, waiting for lunch.

"We missed you at breakfast," Dutchy said.

"Did I miss anything of importance?" I asked as I slid into the chair across from him.

"Only Smartass recalling her date with Jack in great detail."

"Don't worry, Blink," Smartass told me with an impish smile. "I'll be sure to fill you in on the very sordid details later."

"Oh, you don't have to go to the trouble, Smartass. I'm sure I can live without knowing exactly how you flung yourself at Jack last night."

"Ouch!" Dutchy commented. "Who knew you could be snarky?"

I shrugged, ignoring the withering glare I knew Smartass was giving me. "Don't mess with someone who has a hangover."

"I think you've just been hanging around Racetrack too long."

"Hanging around? Try fucking," Smartass said with a smirk. "Yes, Blink, I heard all about your tonguing session last night with the Italian midget. Now were you a top or a bottom?"

"We kissed, that's it," I insisted. "We didn't have sex."

"Ha! I don't believe it."

"I do," Dutchy said. "Blink was in no condition to do much else but puke when we got home. I doubt he and Racetrack did anything."

"Who and Racetrack?" Speak of the devil. Race was walking in, fresh from the pool, just as Dutchy said that.

"Us," I explained. "Smartass doesn't believe that we didn't have sex last night."

"I think she just gets hot from thinking about two studs like us getting it on."

"Oh, Higgins, you are beyond delusional."

"And you are in denial." Race sat in the chair beside me. I surveyed his bare, wet chest with more than a little appreciation. "So who do you guys think is going tonight?"

"I wish I could say _you_, but I'm going to have to go with Blink," Smartass said. "He didn't do the challenge yesterday and we all remember what happened to Swinger when she chose to be a prude."

Though I was red-faced with both embarrassment and anger, I really couldn't argue with her. She had a valid point and I was already preparing for that night. "If I go, I go," I said nonchalantly. It wasn't really an act. I honestly didn't care so much anymore about whether or not I stayed. I hoped I would stay, but I recognized that it wouldn't be the end of the world if I was eliminated.

"As for girls, I think it'll be Mayfly. Cherry is probably giving Jack too much head for him to send her home and me…well, there's no way he'd send me home at this point."

"And you call _me _delusional?" Race commented with a snort.

"I think Cherry is gone," Dutchy said. "The whole whore thing can only go so far. She can't win since she'd be an embarrassment to Jack's family, so at this point she's wearing out her welcome."

Footsteps approached and we all quieted down. The door opened to reveal Mayfly and Cherry. "So that's how I learned to play pool," Cherry explained, obviously finishing up some kind of story.

"Oh, please tell us the story," Dutchy asked.

"It's not really much of a story," she said with a shrug. "I just kicked Mayfly's ass at pool and I was explaining to her that my parents owned a bar and I'd sometimes have to hang out there if they couldn't get a sitter. I just watched how the guys would play pool and I picked it up quickly."

"So you grew up in a seedy, alcohol-heavy environment," Smartass summed up. "What a surprised."

"Shove it, bitch."

"What were you guys talking about?" Mayfly asked.

"We were just commenting on how scary it must have been for Jack to spend an entire night alone with Smartass," Racetrack told her.

"Ooh, poor guy!" Cherry said. "I hope he isn't too scarred from it."

"Oh, ha, bloody, ha! Funny joke!" Smartass snarled.

"Who's joking?" Dutchy mumbled.

"So who – and be completely honest – who is nervous about tonight?" Mayfly asked. Her hand went up into the air along with mine and Dutchy's. After a beat, Cherry's hand slowly rose into the air. Smartass, of course, sat in her spot, arms crossed, and rolled her eyes. Racetrack simply sat there looking amused. "Well, I know Smartass is overly confident, but c'mon, Race. You're not even a little bit nervous that you may be going?"

"It's not that I'm so sure I'm not going to be eliminated; it's more that, if I am eliminated, I know it won't be the end of the world." He gave me a sly look. "Besides, maybe not winning will be even better."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Cherry, that it may be a blessing in disguise to be eliminated. I mean, sure Jack is hot as hell and rich, but maybe we're completely incompatible. I don't want to commit to someone who isn't for me."

"I think you're just saying that so that, when you're inevitably eliminated, you can save face."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Smartass."

* * *

_6:55pm PST_

I tugged at the tie that hung around my neck. It felt more like a noose. "God, this thing is choking me."

"You're just nervous, Blinky." Mayfly gently loosened the tie so that it didn't cling to my trachea so tightly, but also didn't look too lax. "Breathe," she ordered. "Breathe."

I gulped and fanned myself, sitting back on the library couch. Mayfly and I were the first to arrive for the night's elimination and we were trying to provide moral support for each other. This was by far the most nerve-racking elimination we'd had this entire time. At least, that's how it felt for me. This was likely due to the fact that I knew I was on the chopping block for refusing to partake in yesterday's challenge. "If I'm eliminated tonight, I want you to know that I'll be rooting for you to win," I told her.

"Aw, thank you, babe!" she said, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "I figured you'd be rooting for Race to win."

I blushed. "Well, I kind of hope he doesn't…I mean…" I stammered.

"Aha! That's so cute! You want him to lose so the two of you can ride off into the sunset together! Just promise to invite me to the wedding…or the civil union or whatever."

"Don't worry," I promised, "You can even be a bridesmaid if you so wish."

"Seriously, you two are so perfect for each other. I thought so the minute we met him and you reverted back into a pre-teen girl, stammering and blushing around him."

"I did not!" I insisted, though I knew my blushing cheeks betrayed me.

"Hi, guys!" Cherry chirped as she entered. "Are you ready?"

"I guess. I don't think there's really any way to prepare yourself for possibly being eliminated," I said.

"Blink, you're not going anywhere." Race came in behind Cherry, looking pointedly at me. "No matter what happened yesterday, you're staying."

"How do you know?"

"It's obvious Jack has the hots for you."

I shook my head. "Thanks, Race, but you don't need to try and cheer me up. If it's my time to go…then it's my time to go. I can deal with that."

Smartass trailed in with Dutchy on her heels. "Let's get this over, shall we?" she suggested. "I think I'll treat myself to a nice hour in the hot tub with a bottle of wine after two of you leave." She perched herself on one of the chairs, smiling in anticipation of her relaxing evening. I vindictively hoped she would be eliminated just to slap that smug grin off her face.

The crew members entered and began setting up for the elimination. I was placed between Race and Mayfly which was a comfort to me. I felt Mayfly's hand in mine and I squeezed it back. Race's arm wrapped around my waist, settling on my hip. At least if I was going to be eliminated, I was going to be eliminated with friends supporting me.

"Hello!" Medda announced as she entered in her usual retina-scalding ensemble. "You all look wonderful this evening!"

"Thank you," we chorused.

"I can see that the cream has indeed risen to the top and that we now have the best of the best leftover. Sadly, we must now bid two of you adieu!" Medda took her place before us, waiting for the camera to get in place around her. "Tonight, Jack will be eliminating one young man and one young lady in his quest to find his soul mate. However, I hope that those of you who are eliminated feel proud that you made it at least this far and can exit with your heads held high." I heard Smartass emit a soft snort at that. "But let's get right to it, shall we?"

The doors opened and Jack entered, dressed to the nines. The only thing more dazzling than his suit was his smile. "Hello," he greeted softly. "I trust you are all doing well this evening." We nodded emphatically, as though our entire future in this game rested on agreeing to his statement. "I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed the company of each and every one of you." He caught each of our eyes as he spoke to us. "Ian, you've such a confidence about you and you don't let anyone tell you how to act. Vaughn, you're very high class and you understand the world in which I live. Ashleigh, you're crazy, but in a good way, and you have such a passion about life. Brent, you're incredibly intuitive and you notice things that other people don't. Vincent, you've got a great sense of humor and I love talking with you. And Tammy, you're fun to be around and there is never a dull moment with you."

That was different. He'd never specifically told us exactly what he liked about us before. It was nice to have him let us know what he appreciated about us. "Unfortunately," he continued, bringing us all back down to earth, "I must now tell two of you good-bye." Slowly, Jack made his way to the table which held the objects that each of us had given him that first night. From her place beside me, I heard Mayfly inhale sharply and hold her breath. "My first elimination…" Jack grabbed an object from off the table and held it up. It was the silver bra. "Must be Tammy."

I looked down the line to Cherry, slightly stunned. I noticed her close her eyes and let out a defeated sigh. Still, she immediately pulled herself together again, and gave us all a smile. "It's okay," she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Tammy, you're beautiful," Jack told her as he handed her the undergarment. "I just think you're a bit too wild for me."

"Can't change who I am," she told him with a shrug.

"I know, and I hope you never do." He gave her a hug before she took her place beside Medda.

"Now then Jack, who will be the next eliminated contestant?" the red haired, faux Swede asked.

"Next," he began as he looked over the table. This time I was the one holding my breath. I tightened my grip on Mayfly's hand, hoping I wasn't hurting her. I closed my eyes, waiting to hear my name. "Next, I must eliminate Ian." My eyes bulged, certain that I must have misheard him. But no, Jack was in fact holding the guitar pick that Dutchy had given him.

Dutchy shot me a grin as he stepped forward to take the pick back. "Hey, things happen."

"You're just not my type," Jack told him sincerely. "And I have a feeling I'm not really your type."

Dutchy laughed. "Honestly…no, you're not."

"So it kind of all worked out." Jack pulled him in for a hug. "And I'm glad to see there are no hard feelings."

Mayfly, Racetrack, and I gathered around the newly eliminated contestants to say our final good-byes. Smartass, of course, stood off to the side looking bored by the entire thing. "Ah, well, I'm sure I'll find Mr. Right," Cherry told me as I hugged her.

"I'm sure you will, Cherry," Dutchy told her with a grin.

"I'm sorry, guys," I told them both. "I'm glad to have met you both, though."

"You, too, Blink," Dutchy said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "You guys are really cool."

"You'd better win it for the women," Cherry told Mayfly. "Because I want a woman to win, but not Smartass."

"I heard that!" Smartass bellowed.

"Good, I wanted you to."

Medda gently looped her arms through theirs, pulling them toward the door. "I must ask you both to pack your bags and leave. But we will all miss you very much." She led them out, leaving the rest of us alone with Jack.

"Jack," Smartass cooed as she sidled up beside him. "Would you like to join me in the hot tub?"

"I'm sorry, Vaughn, but I'll have to take a rain check." He made his way to the door, turning around only long enough to tell us all, "Tomorrow I will be having private meetings with each of you so as to best decide which of you will be my final two." With that, he was gone.

And then there were four.

* * *

**AN:** Yes, we're down to the final four! This story is almost done…and it only took me about four years. I'm sure you all think you know what is going to happen, but hopefully I'll be able to surprise everyone!


	14. July 30, 9:45 am to 6:00pm

_Friday, July 30_

_9:45am PST_

There was no denying that breakfast the next morning was, at first, the most somber it had ever been. There were few wisecracks and the discussion didn't stray much further than our "private meetings" with Jack that would help determine which two of us went on tomorrow. That morning we'd all awoken to a list of questions that would be discussed and the time for our meetings. It would start with Mayfly at 1:00pm, followed by me at 2:00pm, then Smartass at 3:00pm, and, finally, Racetrack at 4:00pm. After that, we'd be having our final dinner together. It was a nerve-racking day. Even Smartass looked a bit tense, though I know she'd never admit it.

"I feel like I'm preparing for a beauty pageant," Mayfly commented as she looked down the list of questions for our meeting. "Like this question: 'If chosen, how would you best uphold the Kelly family name?'"

"Well, Jack," Racetrack said, holding his spoon up like a microphone, "I would keep my nasty drug habits under wraps, I would only hire gigolos who are willing to sign a contract, vowing never to expose me to the press, and I'd volunteer to cut ribbons at hospital grand openings." I'm almost positive that even Smartass cracked a smile at that.

"Don't you find this a bit pretentious? I mean, shouldn't we get to ask _him_ questions to verify that he's 'the one'?"

"Sorry, Blink, but since he's the one with the dough, _he_ gets to ask the questions, not us," Race said. "Though I have to wonder what he's trying to get out of us with some of these. I mean, what could our favorite decade possibly have to do with what kind of lover we'll be?"

"Maybe he just feels he hasn't gotten to know us and wants to just know more," Mayfly suggested. "Or maybe he wants to make sure no one will embarrass him by wearing an 80's reject outfit to a function."

I stabbed at my French toast with my fork, shoveling the delectable food into my mouth. "This is weird."

Mayfly raised an eyebrow. "The questions? Yeah, we know."

"Not that! I mean this…us, sitting here, with…well…just us. Only a week ago there were still six other people here."

"Yeah," Mayfly said with a grin. "Remember when Cherry and Bumlets tried to see who could best deep throat a banana?"

Racetrack laughed. "And then Cherry tried to explain to Jan was "deep throat" meant."

"God, Jan!" I shook my head as I recalled the intellectually challenged young woman. "Did you know she thought that South America was part of the U.S.A? And she thought the novel _Little Women_ was about midgets."

"I wasn't sure whether to pity her or mock her," Mayfly told us. "In the end, I did both."

"I thought Specs' head was going to explode every time she spoke."

"What about Becca? She brought the whole 'tortured soul' a bit too far, don't you think?" Racetrack asked.

"And Swinger. I kind of wish she'd stayed longer."

"Yeah," Mayfly agreed. "She definitely should have stayed over some other people." She didn't mention any names, but I saw her eyes stealthily glance over toward Smartass.

"What? No mention of Skittery?" Smartass commented. "He was by far the biggest character on the show."

I shivered just thinking about the psychotic contestant. "I've been trying to block him out."

"Yeah, we had to live with him, Smartass. That's not really something you want to think about."

Smartass rolled her eyes at Racetrack. "Yes, because the rest of us weren't in just as much danger. If anyone should have been frightened of the guy, it's Jack. Skittery knows where he lives and where he works. That's some freaky stuff."

"She's got a point," Mayfly said with an affirmative nod. "But Jack also has enough money to hire an army of security guards."

"Not to mention the fact that Skittery is probably locked up by now. Most states don't look too kindly on breaking and entering and attempted murder, especially when the victim is a prominent heir."

"Here, coach me," I told Racetrack, handing him the list of questions. "Ask me a question and tell me what you think of the response."

"Okay." He looked down the list, studying each question carefully. "Oh, okay! Here's a good one: What embarrassing secret might come up if I choose you to spend the rest of my life with?"

"…Ask me another one."

"Nope, you have to answer this one!"

"Come on, Blinky! What embarrassing secret could you possibly have?"

I lowered my eyes sheepishly. "Well…I kind of experimented with marijuana when I was a freshman in college. It was only one night, but the guy living next door to the apartment I was in was a cop and he smelled it. We were all brought in and booked. The guys who had given us the stuff – I didn't really know them, my friend did – had a record, but since me and my friend had never been in trouble before, we were given 100 hours of community service and we had to attend the school's drug program for the rest of the semester."

I looked up and saw all three of them looking at me with dropped jaws. Who knew that I, the quiet little writer, had once been arrested? "You have a track record?" Mayfly shouted.

"No, actually. After three years, the record was expunged because I hadn't been in any trouble since."

Racetrack doubled over with laughter. "Wow! I never would have expected you to be a pothead!"

"I'm not a pothead! I only smoked it that once…and I didn't even like it!"

"Did you inhale?"

"Yes, and my throat and lungs felt like they were on friggin' fire. Of course, that was right when the cops arrived, so I didn't get a decent drink of water for, like, an hour." I rested my cheek in my hand. "Do you think I should tell Jack that?"

"Definitely," Racetrack told me. "It's better to come clean now than to have him find out later that you lied. I mean, most people have tried pot at least once, they just didn't get caught."

Mayfly nodded. "You said your record was wiped clean, so you should be fine. Besides, having a track record in California is like a rite of passage or something."

"Paris Hilton even did time," Smartass added. "Every rich person's got some dark secret."

"So what's yours, Smartass?"

"None of your business, Racetrack."

"Hello everyone!" Our heads turned to the door and we almost choked on our food. Medda was standing there in all of her hot pink glory, surveying the four of us. It wasn't her clothing that shocked us – at this point we would have been more surprised to see her wearing a different color – but the fact that, up until now, she had never once shown up at breakfast. In fact, I can't remember having seen her before noon. "And how are all of you this morning?"

"Is something going on?"

"Of course not, Ashleigh! I just wanted to visit you all before you meet with Jack."

I furrowed my brow. "That's not happening for, like, another three hours."

Medda slid into the chair at the head of the table. "Yes, Brent, so I wanted to make sure you all know just how important these meetings are. If you cannot impress Jack, you may not make it to the final two."

"Yeah, Medda, we got that part," Smartass said dryly.

"I also want to stress to you all how important honesty is." I don't know if she had overheard our previous conversation, but she looked at me just as she said that. "If you cannot be honest with Jack then you have no business being here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Medda," we chorused, sounding not unlike a kindergarten class.

"Good! I wish you all the best of luck! Don't be nervous, be articulate, and really think about your answers!" She blew us all a kiss as she exited, leaving us to carefully study the list of questions.

* * *

_2:50pm PST_

"What piece of furniture from your home would you insist on bringing here if I choose you?"

I racked my brain, thinking about the crappy furniture I had in the apartment I shared with Mush. To be honest, most of it was either Mush's or it was an out-of-date Ikea buy that probably wouldn't hold up form more than three more months. "I guess I'd have to say my bookcase. I know the library already has a lot of great bookshelves, but this is one that my grandfather made for me and if I'm going to be moving here, you're going to need more bookcases to hold all of my books."

He smiled warmly before looking down at the next question. The meeting had been going very smoothly so far and I found myself growing very comfortable with Jack. I'd taken Medda's talk to heart and I'd given an honest answer to everything, regardless of how embarrassing it may be for me. Surprisingly, he had not only laughed about it, but he had also related his own marijuana story to me. This was by far the easiest interview I'd ever had, and that included all job interviews I'd ever had.

"Kids?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you interested in having kids?"

I blinked. "Sure, I'd like to adopt some kids some day."

"What would you say is your style?"

"I guess just sort of simple."

"Last, but not least, what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Definitely Rocky Road."

He marked it down before looking back up and grinning. "Well, it was a pleasure talking to you!"

"Thank you," I said awkwardly as I stood. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to have him show me out or if I was supposed to just go. When he made no move to stand, I walked to the door, giving him a final wave, and entered into the waiting room.

"How'd it go?" Mayfly was sitting on the sofa by herself looking very bored. Racetrack and Smartass were still in the other waiting room until their interview. "Did you do well?"

"I think so," I said, falling onto the sofa. "It was much easier than I thought."

"What did you say for 'Favorite natural disaster'?"

"I went with tropical storm. I figured it would sound insensitive to say hurricane. You?"

"Earthquake. I mean, he's in California, so that's one he probably gets a lot."

"Good thinking! I got a bit stuck for 'Favorite decade,' but I finally went with the 1940's."

"Me too! High five!" We slapped hands at our shared taste in the World War II era. "Favorite fruit for me was orange. For you…let me guess: banana?"

"Ha! Shows how much you know! I went with plum."

"Very original."

"Thank you!"

"What about favorite drink?"

"Meh, I said rum and coke."

"I said Sex on the Beach. I mean, I've never actually had one, I just thought it sounded cool."

"So just between the two of us, who do you think is going to be in the final two?"

Mayfly shrugged. "Honestly, I think it could go either way between me and Smartass. You're a shoe-in, though."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely! Racetrack is a nice guy and all, but I think Jack may be losing his patience with him." She wrapped an arm around my shoulders "Besides, I've seen the adoring looks that Jack has been giving you. My money is on you to take it."

I rested my head against her shoulder. "Thanks." I know I didn't sound that excited at the idea of winning, but I couldn't force cheeriness into my voice. "I hope you win."

"Why?"

"Because, you're nice. And then Racetrack and I could just be together."

"Blink, you do know that the two of you could be together anyway. You guys are free to leave."

"I know that, but Racetrack's head is in this. He said he wants to be with me if we both lose, but I don't think he wants to run the risk of either of us losing out on a chance with Jack."

"Oh, Blinky!" She pulled me in closer. "I think Racetrack wants you. He just doesn't want you to quit this thing and maybe regret it."

"But I wouldn't regret it if it was with him!"

"Blink, I'm not the one you need to be telling this to. When Racetrack walks through that door, tell him how you feel."

I shrugged. "Maybe I'll talk to him late tonight. I mean, I don't want to talk about it in front of Smartass."

"Ah, good idea."

"Mayfly?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening."

"No problem. We New Orleanians have to stick together."

* * *

_6:00pm PST_

"To the final four!"

"To the final four!" we repeated Mayfly's toast, raising our drinks into the air. Unlike the previous dinners, we were served martinis as opposed to wine. It wasn't quite to my taste, but I had to admit that the more I drank the better it became.

"May the best person win!" Racetrack added before throwing back his drink.

"Oh, I will," Smartass said smugly. Still, even her haughty sense of confidence was more subdue and I found myself truly enjoying the company of them all. I knew that tomorrow two people would be gone and then tomorrow night only one would walk away a winner. At this point, we'd all done everything we could and there was no point in being petty.

"God, these baked potatoes are delicious!" Mayfly mumbled as she stuffed a forkful of potato, butter, bacon bits, and cheese into her mouth. "I'm really hungry tonight!"

"It's the booze."

I looked at Racetrack. "How do you know?"

"Trust me, when it comes to alcohol I'm something of an expert."

"Ha, I figured you were something of a lush," Smartass said. I noticed a slight slur in her tone as she said it.

"Look who's talking! You're already tipsy."

"No…no I'm not…" She took another big gulp. "Okay, so I am. But that doesn't count. I'm skinny so I get drunk easier than you do."

"You're probably not as much as of a light weight as I am," I assured her. I was still on my first drink and I was beginning to feel light headed. In light of that, I put my martini aside and focused more on my food and water.

"I wonder what's going to happen tomorrow," Mayfly commented. "I mean, are we going to wake up and come downstairs and find the names of the final two or is there going to be an impromptu elimination as soon as we wake up?"

"So long as we're allowed to sleep in past 9:00 I'll be happy." Especially if I ended up getting as smashed tonight as I had two nights prior.

"We should dance!" Racetrack decided. "We should get some music and dance!"

"Where the hell did that come from?" I asked.

"I don't know. It just feels like we should do something special tonight. Go out with a bang."

Mayfly and I exchanged bemused glances. "In the mood to Macarena, Racetrack?" she asked.

"Whatever," he replied with a shrug. "Just something." When he saw our doubtful glances, he added, "Come on, guys! Tomorrow two of us will be going home and if it's me I want to remember my last night here as being fun!"

"We're still eating dinner," Smartass pointed out.

"So bring your plates with you! Bring the drinks! Grab CDs! Meet me in the ballroom." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me from my seat. "Come on, Blink! We'll go set up the ballroom. Mayfly, grab some CDs and Smartass, grab a tray for all of our food and drinks." The two women ran off to complete their assigned tasks as Race dragged me toward the stairs.

"Racetrack, I don't know that we're allowed to just break into any room we want."

"Blink, one of us will be living here soon! If they didn't want us to run around as we pleased they'd lock the doors, now wouldn't they?" He tugged me up, ignoring any protests. "We're going to have fun…_you_ are going to have fun, Blink! Live life! Enjoy it now!"

Well who can argue with that logic? I obediently followed behind him to the ballroom. The lights were out, though the outside lights shone in, giving the room an ominous feel to it. I stepped out on to the floor, walking to the windows. For the first time since the competition had started, I realized that…this could all be mine…

"It's nice, isn't it?" I jumped as I felt Race's hands on my hips, his mouth by my ear.

"Race…I know you said you only want a relationship if we both lose." I paused, feeling my stomach flip flop. "But, if you were to say right now that you'd be happy to leave this, to leave it all behind…I'd do it."

His cheek rested against my back as he let out a sigh. "Blink, why do you have to make things so complicated? Why can't you play by the rules?" His arms encircled my waist and his hands settled only inches above my groin. "Let's just see what happens. Okay? I just don't want you to leave this behind."

"O-okay," I managed to get out as I felt my throat closing. "Yeah, no, I understand completely."

"Good." He gently kissed my neck. "Don't worry, Blink. I have a feeling that everything is going to work out perfectly."

"Why are you guys in the dark?" Mayfly's voice rang out. We jumped apart before she turned on the light. "There," she said as they came on, "that's better." In her arms were a pile of CD cases which she sat down on the piano bench.

"What have we got?"

"We have everything from _Hairspray_ to Cheese on Bread," she told us as she popped in one of the CDs. Moments later the air was filled with the sound of "Can't Buy Me Love." "I figured we'd start with an old favorite!"

Race grabbed my hand and pulled me out on to the floor. "Let's dance!" he whispered to me excitedly. "We dance tonight!"

"And drink!" Smartass called out as she carted in a small tray which carried our four martinis, along with gin, vermouth, olives, and a shaker. "Everyone come and get them!"

"I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend, if it makes you feel alright," Race sang as he spun me around. "I'll give you everything my friend, if it makes you feel alright!" He pulled me in, wrapping his arms around my neck. "Well, I don't care too much for money! Money can't buy me love!"

"You don't need money, Race," I whispered to him. "And you don't need to give me a diamond ring!" I leaned in to kiss him, but he gently took my face and stopped me.

"Tomorrow, Blink! Tomorrow we celebrate! Tonight we dance!"

* * *

**AN:** Next chapter we get down to the final two! We're nearing the end and I'm both happy and sad! I'm happy that I didn't abandon this fic, but I'm sad to see it end. Hopefully, it will be well-received!


	15. July 31, 7:45am to 6:00pm

_Saturday, July 31_

_7:45am PST_

Despite my proclamation the previous night that I hoped to sleep in, I found myself awake before 7:30. It wasn't because of a wake-up call or because of Racetrack's prodding. I just opened my eyes, feeling not at all tired, and glanced at the clock. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say it was nerves. After all, today four would be reduced to two and tonight two would be reduced to one…and I had a good chance of being that one.

I tried to force myself back to sleep, but it was a lost cause. I was like a child waking up on Christmas morning who knows that his parents won't be up for at least one more hour, but who can bear the thought of just lying in bed when he knows that awaiting him in the living room is a bundle of new toys and games just waiting to be played with? Eventually, I gave up and crept out of the bed. I quietly checked on Racetrack who was lying face down snoring softly. He looked so angelic.

I took a quick shower, careful not to make too much noise. It was nice to be up early because it gave me time to primp myself for the day without having to hear Race's teasing. I had a feeling that the final two were already decided, but if I was one of them, I definitely wanted to look my best. I dabbed my skin with cologne before carefully styling my hair. I'd figured out what I wanted to wear the night before. Because I had no idea what the day might entail, I'd opted for a pair of dark jeans to be worn with a green and white stripped polo shirt. Before leaving the room, I grabbed a dark blazer just in case, and then I made my way down to the dining room. I wasn't surprised to find it vacant, but I was shocked to see that the table was already set with a pastry dish and a fruit bowl. Hot coffee was ready in the pot and I poured myself a mug, ready to start the day already.

I didn't see any note or list that would tell me who was moving on and who wasn't, though it was possible that they simply hadn't gotten around to writing it up yet. I also didn't see any sign of another living person. It was nice to have time to myself.

The previous night had been pretty unforgettable, especially since I'd managed to not get plastered. We'd stayed up until at least midnight, dancing around the ballroom to a multitude of songs ranging from swing to show tunes to rock to salsa. It helped us sweat out the booze we'd consumed that night and it made us forget about the impending elimination. Much like our night spent clubbing, we all felt like we were just friends having fun, not competitors, one of whom would be named the winner of this tacky little competition.

Race had, of course, rebutted all of my intimate attempts. I tried not to mind, telling myself that he only had my best interest in mind. He'd assured me that everything would work out, but we'd both known that he was only saying that to make me feel better. He couldn't possibly know how all of this was going to end. Still, I appreciated his attempts to spare my feelings, no matter how lame said attempts were. It still hurt, of course, knowing that his mind was only on the competition and not on me, but I couldn't blame him. Why should he give up all of this for a chance with me?

"Hey, early bird! Catch the worm?" I glanced to the door where Mayfly stood. She wore a denim skirt, a blousy black top that dipped down a bit, giving a good view of her cleavage, and strappy black sandals.

"I figured I'd be the only one up this early."

"Are you kidding? I couldn't sleep a wink." She sat beside me and plucked a croissant from the dish and bit into it. "I thought you were going to sleep in."

"I thought so too. I guess my body had other plans."

"So how are things with you and Race?"

I inwardly winced at the question. "I told him."

"And?"

"And…" I downed my coffee and got up to pour another mug. "And he said thing would work out."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"He wouldn't let me kiss him. He didn't want to talk about the possibility of us having a relationship. He wanted to ignore the entire situation and dance."

"Oh." She was quiet as she chewed on her breakfast. "Well, to be fair he wasn't exactly sober last night. Maybe he just wasn't thinking straight."

"He said what he wanted to say, Mayfly. I just have to accept it." _I don't have to like it, though_, I added in my mind.

"Well, at least you're taking it well." She gave me a friendly shoulder squeeze. "Now cheer up, Blinky! Smartass will be down soon and you don't want her to know you're feeling weak. She can smell vulnerability."

* * *

_11:35am PST_

Medda paced before us like a drill sergeant as we stood in a straight line, anxiously waiting to hear our fate. "Outside are four town cars, one for each of you. The cars have already been designated and the driver will be holding a sign with your name on it. When I give you the go ahead, you will go outside and get into your car. Your driver has already been told where to go, so all you need to do is sit back for the ride." She stopped and looked at us, a playful smile on her lips. "For two of you, this will be a ride to a predetermined destination where Jack will be waiting for you; for the other two, this will be your final ride."

I looked to my side where Race stood. He grinned and shot me a wink. Whether he meant that to say he thought he would be part of the final two or whether he thought I would be part of the final two, I'm not sure, but I found it somewhat unsettling nonetheless.

"Go!"

We needlessly raced out – needlessly because we already knew we each had a car and each had been predetermined – and found our driver. I stopped for a second before sliding into the car, and looked out at the others, realizing that this would be the last time I saw at least two of them. Then I slid into the back of the car and buckled myself in for the ride.

The driver didn't speak to me, letting the radio fill the silence instead, and I was thankful. I wasn't interested in talking at that point as I mutely watched the scenery fly past out the window. I looked for some hint about where I was going and, more importantly, whether or not I was in one of the "winning" cars. I couldn't see any of the other cars nearby, though I guess the drivers had taken different routes to keep the contestants from knowing until the last minute who the winners and losers were for the day.

Ten minutes went by, and then fifteen. By the time I hit the twenty minute mark and still hadn't stopped, my stomach sank and I slouched down. Would it really be taking this long if I were one of the final two? Surely, this was just a last hurrah for me before they gave me the boot.

"We're here!" the driver announced as he pulled into a small park area. I looked out the window, but I couldn't see another person anywhere.

"What does this mean?" I asked as I stepped out of the car. He shrugged, though I'm not sure if that's because he had been instructed not to tell me, or because he really didn't know.

Before I could probe any further or investigate anymore, another car drove up and came to a stop. The driver got out and walked around to the backseat door, opening it for the passenger. A leg came out as the woman inside stepped out...Mayfly.

"May!" I called, running up to hug her.

"Blinky!" She returned the embrace at full force. "So are we winners?"

"I haven't a clue."

She wrapped her arm around my waist. "Well, if _you're_ here, I'm very hopeful!" We walked further into the area, though there was very little to see. There was a small building that was likely an information center for the park and there were a few statues scattered about with signs telling you what they meant.

"Should we go into the information center?" I guessed.

"I don't think anyone is in there," Mayfly said as she peered into the dark building. "Oh, wait! I see something!" She pulled the door and it opened. "Come on!"

We ventured into the dark building and taped to the small visitors' map was an envelope reading "Ashleigh and Brent." I snatched it up and opened it as we walked back outside. "…God, I'm nervous."

"Just read it, Blink!"

I pulled out the note and looked down at it as Mayfly peered over my shoulder. "Ashleigh and Brent: Congratulations! You are the final two!"

She jumped up and down beside me, gently nudged me with her elbow. "Hell yes! Go us!"

"Follow this map through the park and you will find Jack waiting for the two of you for a private double date."

"Ooo, threesome!"

"Congratulations again! Remember, one of you will be the winner of Jack's heart!"

Mayfly grabbed my arm. "Come on, let's go! We can't keep Mr. Kelly waiting!"

"Okay," I told her as I looked down the map. "We need to go due north. Uh, which way is north."

"Ahem." I looked up to see Mayfly pointing to a large compass that had been painted on to the ground. "North is that way!" She took off running, beckoning me to follow.

"Take a left up here!" I called to her as I ran up beside her. "And then we need to take a right at the waterfall."

"It's like a treasure hunt…only we're hunting a hunky, bisexual man."

"Sounds like a treasure to me."

She hugged me tightly. "God, I'm so excited! We're the final fucking two, baby!"

We'd only been walking for about five minutes when we happened upon a small barn. The door to it was open, but there wasn't any sign of a person being in there. "Should we go in?"

Mayfly didn't respond, but simply grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. Inside, a small table – big enough for three – had been set up with champagne. "Hello?" she called tentatively. No response. She walked further in, pulling me along with her. "Hellooooo!"

"Hello!" We both jumped, turning to see Jack standing where we had been only moments before. "Nice to see that you both found your way!" He entered and I could see that he was holding two red roses.

"Hi, Jack!" Mayfly said with a grin. I offered a small wave.

"For you," he said, handing her a rose, along with a kiss on the cheek, "and for you," he said, repeating the same action with me. "Congratulations to you both! I can assure you that I couldn't be happier with you as the final two."

"I'm just glad it's me and Blink," Mayfly said as she sat. "Because even if I don't win, I'll be happy for him."

"That's very nice to know," Jack told her, taking his seat. "I'm glad to see that the two of you have become so friendly with each other." He leaned down and pulled a small basket out from under the table. I momentarily dreaded a repeat of our private date from the previous week. "I figured we'd make this a bit simpler than most of the dinners," he said, pulling out sandwiches wrapped in plastic.

"PB and J with champagne? Strange combo." Mayfly commented before biting into her sandwich.

"So what happens next?"

Jack grinned. "I'm glad you asked, Blink. After this, the two of you will be taken back to the house where you will be readied for tonight's final elimination."

"Readied?"

"Well, you each will be provided with your outfit and you'll be groomed – haircut, facial, pedicure, if you want. Then tonight there will be a large and grand ceremony outside and I'll be making my final decision."

"Ceremony?" Mayfly cut in. "What kind of ceremony?"

Jack looked down sheepishly. "To be completely honest with you, the producers want it to look something like a wedding. But don't worry," he added when he saw Mayfly and I exchange glances, "it's not going to be a marital ceremony, it's just for show. Ratings and stuff."

"Good," Mayfly said. "I mean, if I am chosen I'd love to maybe marry you eventually, but not so soon." I nodded in agreement.

Jack poured the champagne, giving each of us a decent sized glass of it. "Don't worry, you will not be expected to marry anyone tonight. Of that, I can assure you." He lifted his glass in the air. "For now, let's celebrate the moment and let me toast to both of you."

Mayfly caught my eye and we shared a smile, lifting our glasses as well. "To us," she said, clinking her glass against mine.

"To us," I repeated. "To us."

* * *

_6:00pm PST_

I stood looking at the man in the mirror. He wore a tuxedo that probably cost more than his entire college education. The dark grey vest brought out the blue in his eye and the jacket clung so perfectly to his torso, as though it had been made for him. His hair was perfectly styled and his skin looked smooth as a baby's bottom. The only thing that kept him from looking like every other male model in fashion magazines was the eye patch that adorned his left eye.

"You look great, Blink."

I turned and saw Mayfly standing behind me, smiling sadly. She wore a full-length, strapless ivory gown. Around the waist was a light purple, sating bow that tied in the back. Peeking out beneath the fabric, I saw open-toed, white heels. Her hair had been pulled back and small jewels shone from beneath the mane of deep brown.

"You too, May," I told her, pulling her into a hug. Even after our embrace ended, our hands stayed entwined. "I…I really can't believe all of this. Can you?"

She laughed. "I'm still trying to get over the fact that I've been staying in a mansion for the past two weeks."

One of the cameramen appeared at the door, beckoning to us. "We need you to get in place."

We followed behind, hand in hand, musing over all of the things that had happened since we'd met two weeks ago on that plane.

"Well, you both look marvelous!" Medda cried, pulling us into an embrace. "I am so proud of you both." She pushed us toward the double doors that led out to the small garden outside. I could see a miniature gazebo had been set up, adorned with flowers. A white fabric had been laid down, leading from the gazebo to the door where we stood. "We'll begin in a moment."

"What do you think?" Mayfly whispered to me.

"It looks nice."

"I meant about the competition. Who do you think is going to win?"

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "You. Jack would be crazy not to choose you."

"Starting in one minute," someone announced. "Set up the bridesmaids and groomsmen."

"The what!" Mayfly and I said in tandem. We watched outside as our former competitors were all led out and set up on either side of the "aisle." The men wore tuxedos and the women wore light purple gowns. Skittery was conspicuously missing from the procession.

"Did you know about this?" Mayfly asked.

"No." I caught sight of Race and my heart nearly exploded in my chest. "No, I didn't."

"Cue Jack!" one of the crew members ordered. "Thirty seconds," he told us.

"I think I may faint!" Mayfly hissed as she furiously fanned herself.

"You'll be fine," I assured her.

"Five…four…three…two…one!" We were pushed forward as "Here Comes the Bride" played. "Go!"

The two of us walked down the makeshift aisle hand in hand. On either side of us, people grinned, watching as we made our way to the awaiting "groom." The music ended with both of us standing before Jack, our backs to the others.

"This…this has been a wonderful experience for me," Jack began. "I flew six men and six women out here in search of my soul mate. Along the way, I, sadly, had to eliminate ten people," he said, nodding to our fallen competitors. "But I know that I've made the right decisions."

Medda brought out a small, satin pillow, holding the gifts that Mayfly and I had given Jack two weeks ago. "I would like to begin by returning these to each of you," he said, handing each of us our respective gifts. "They have told me so much about each of you and I thank you for giving them to me so graciously." May and I took them, holding them close to us.

Jack took my hand and looked me in the eye. "Brent, you're an intelligent and wonderful man. You are intuitive and you wear your emotions on your sleeve. You don't try to change who you are and you are always true to yourself."

"Thank you," I said softly as he let go of my hand.

"Ashleigh," he said, taking her hand as he'd taken mine, "you are so full of life and so much fun. You have a great passion for everything you do and you don't let others get you down. You make me smile and you push me to try new things."

Mayfly smiled. "Thanks, Jack."

He let out a sigh and I could see that he was struggling with what he was about to say. "This has not been an easy decision, and I know that I'm going to have to hurt one of you."

I closed my eyes as I thought about him having to hurt someone. I knew Mayfly wouldn't be heartbroken if she wasn't chosen, but I still knew that it would be unfair of me to allow Jack to choose me when my heart just wasn't in the competition anymore. Race had told me that he'd be with me if we both lost. He was already out, so I was now the only person standing in the way of a relationship with him.

It was then that I made up my mind. I decided to stop Jack, to tell him that he should choose Mayfly. I decided to tell him that I simply didn't love him, that my heart was elsewhere and I wasn't being fair to him or to Mayfly or to Racetrack or to myself! I decided to stop this now. Before I could even open my mouth, though, I was interrupted by a commotion from inside the house.

"Let me go!" a familiar psycho yelled. "I said let go!"

Jack looked worriedly to Medda and the woman ran toward the house to check it out. From all around I could hear the other men and women murmuring nervously. Mayfly grabbed my hand, squeezing it nervously. I shot her a reassuring smile, not wanting her to get scared.

"I'm sorry," Jack said to us. "We'll get this taken care of in no time."

I looked back and caught Race's eye. He grinned and shot me a thumbs-up. I returned the smile, hoping he could tell that I was about to throw this all away and run off with him.

"Stop!" Skittery burst from the house, eyes big as he ran toward us. I instinctively jumped in front of Mayfly. "Stop this ceremony!"

"Somebody grab that psycho!" Dutchy yelled.

"You can't marry him!" Skittery insisted.

"It's not a real ceremony!" Cherry called out.

"Just because you lost doesn't mean you need to ruin this for everyone else," Racetrack yelled.

Skittery shook his head, suddenly looking very worried. "No! No, you don't understand!" His hand flew up and he pointed directly to Jack. "He's not who he says he is!"

* * *

**AN:**…I'm just gonna leave it there! ::runs off::


	16. The Big Reveal

As a crazed Skittery stood there, huffing and puffing in the grasp of two cameramen, the rest of us stood in shock as what he had just said sunk in. Certainly, though, Skittery wasn't at all a reliable source and anything he said had to be taken with a grain of salt. Still, he looked so sincere as he said it, I couldn't help but momentarily doubt everything I'd been told.

"Jack?" Mayfly asked in a small voice. "What is he talking about?"

All heads turned to the bisexual heir – _supposed_ bisexual heir – who was beginning to look very uncomfortable. Jack looked between me and Mayfly, and looked down the rows of eliminated contestants, and then looked at Skittery. His hands were wringing and his cheeks had grown pink. "It's true," he finally said, wincing at the resounding gasps. "What he says is true. I'm not really Jack Kelly and I'm not an heir. This," he said, gesturing to the towering mansion, "doesn't belong to me."

Mayfly and I exchanged glances and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Was this supposed to be like Joe Millionaire? Had Jack really pulled the wool over everyone's eyes? What did this mean for us?

"My real name is Francis Sullivan…I'm an actor."

"An actor?" Mayfly whispered.

Medda, who had remained near Skittery during Jack's – or Francis', rather – confession, moved up to the gazebo and took a place beside him. "An actor, Francis?" she asked, looking slightly peeved. I suddenly got the idea that she hadn't known about this either. "So this was what? A look for fifteen minutes of fame?" Francis shrugged sheepishly as Medda's face grew red. She looked out to all of us, folding her arms irately. "Anyone else here want to admit to something? Any other actors here?"

There was a terse moment of silence as Mayfly and I stood, flanked on either side by the eliminated contestants. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I turned just in time to see Bumlets' hand slowly rise. Then Cherry's hand went up, and then Becca's and then Specs' and then Swinger's and then Jan's and then Dutchy's. Smartass looked around at the sea of hands before slowly raising her own, with Racetrack – after giving me a wink – raised his as well. Skittery, now released by the cameramen, raised his hand. Finally, Medda raised her own hand, completing the group.

May looked around at everyone, her jaw dropping with each raised hand. She looked at me as though she was expecting to see my hand raised as well. "What…what is this?"

"Congratulations!" Medda called out, no longer with that incredibly fake Swedish accent. "The two of you are the stars of _Faking It!_, the reality show that isn't really a reality show!"

Around us, our former competitors broke into applause, whistling and cheering as Mayfly and I stood in the center, still not quite sure of what was going on. "It was fake," I said softly. Mayfly was the only one who heard me and she gave me a sympathetic smile. My heart dropped.

Medda linked her arms through ours and directed us toward one of the cameras. "You two were chosen to come out here and be the 'real people' among our cast of talented actors. We had every reality show stereotype to make things interesting, but the two of you were the stars!" She grinned at the camera. "And no, I'm not really Swedish!"

_Gee, no kidding!_ I looked down at the ground, bitterly sulking over this unwelcome surprise. All of it – the contest, the competitors, the drama, Racetrack – it had all been fake. It had been set-up to create interesting television, but at my and Mayfly's expense. We weren't the stars of the show; we were the punch lines.

"Just to show you that we've appreciated your presence for this show, you will each be leaving with a little something," Medda told us, beckoning to two crew members to come forward. Each held one of those large checks that you see awarded to the winners of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes and other such contests. Each check was made out to $10,000; one had my name and the other had Mayfly's. "You're both winners here!"

The group of people crowded around us for hugs and handshakes, as though we were to be congratulated for making asses of ourselves on television. Skittery smiled warmly, hugging us both. Smartass was laughing, her arm around Racetrack. Dutchy and Cherry were holding each other close.

"God, the two of you were great!" Jan said as she hugged me. "And it was a blast!"

I wanted to start cursing at them all and to storm out of there, telling them all to fuck off. But I knew that if I did that I'd look like a sore loser, like someone who didn't have a sense of humor. Mayfly had managed to put on a good humored smile, and dammit, I could too! "Yeah, you guys really got us," I told her, returning the embrace.

"By the way, I'm much smarter than I let on," she told me with a wink. "Then again, most of the people here are much different than the people they were playing."

"Well, I'm not," Skittery said, inducing laughter from his fellow cast members.

"Yeah, Xavier is really a psycho," Swinger told us.

"So are you even gay or bisexual or whatever?" Mayfly asked Jack, though I have a feeling she meant it as a blanket question for all of the men.

"Straight," Jack affirmed. "Definitely straight!"

"Me too!" Bumlets called out.

"No fucking way!" Mayfly said.

"Yes fucking way," he replied with a huge grin. "It was challenging to play a flamer, but it was fun!"

"I'm gay," Specs announced. "And so is Vincent. Jury's out on Xavier, but Ian's definitely all about the ladies."

"Yes, he is," Cherry echoed, pulling him in against her and resting her head on her shoulder. He, in turn, wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.

"So the two of you…" I trailed off, not sure how to put it.

"We're an item," Dutchy said. "We've been dating for about a year now."

"He was so excited about us working together and even more excited when he was told I'd be playing the slut. He started coming up with some good insults for me." She whacked him gently on the chest. "Asshole," she told him with a smile. "Making fun of me."

"How do you think I felt?" Smartass asked, jerking her thumb toward Race. "He kept hoping we'd stage a bitch-slapping fight together." When she caught Mayfly's and my confused looks she laughed, giving Racetrack a friendly pat on the back. "Vincent and I have known each other for years!"

"She was my first fag hag," he said.

"I don't know about that," Smartass replied, rolling her eyes, "but we're close. In fact, I'm the one who got him this gig."

"Bull! I got _you_ this gig."

"You wish, Vinnie!"

"So how did you guys…I mean, how did this all happen?" I asked, still reeling from the epiphany of it all. "How did you meet with each other to rehearse or make sure everyone knew what was going to be happening?"

"Third floor," Becca told us. "We'd have scheduled meeting times to discuss what to do next."

"Ah, so that's why we weren't allowed up there!" Mayfly proclaimed.

"Great detective work, Miss Bennet," Medda responded. "Yes, we had to find ways to sneak about." She wrapped her arms around our shoulders. "And now, since I have a feeling you must both be hungry, we've set up a buffet in the ballroom upstairs. We'll also be previewing clips from the show in the media room soon, so I hope you all enjoy and pat yourselves on the back for a job well done!"

Right. Job well done. Good job, Blink, in looking stupid on TV.

* * *

"So did you come up with your own bits of stupidity or were they written?" Mayfly asked. She and I were standing in one corner of the ballroom along with Jan, Swinger, and Specs. We all held a glass of champagne, though my glass was nearly empty as I'd been compulsively sipping at the champagne since we'd arrived.

"Half and half, I'd say," the young girl said. "I mean, it's a lot of improvisation, so you have to think on your feet, but there were a few that were discussed at the meetings that they wanted me to try and get out there."

"Xavier definitely got into his role more than anyone else," Swinger told us. "He'd sit there during lunch breaks – this was before you guys got here and we were still kind of setting things up and figuring them out – and he'd just stare at you for, like, five minutes without moving or blinking." She shivered just thinking about it, sipping at her champagne to calm her nerves. "He was scary. But it was effective."

"Sure as hell was!" I said, shaking my head as I thought about it. "Scared the shit out of me! I had half a mind to sleep with a knife under my pillow!"

"So how did you get cast in this, anyway?" Mayfly asked.

They all shrugged. "Auditioned," Specs said. "They were looking for particular looks and people who could improvise well."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Racetrack said as he, Smartass, and Becca joined the group. He raised his glass up to all of us. "Cheers to everyone! Cheers especially to our stars!"

"You guys were great," Becca said, nodding emphatically. "And it's nice to see you have a sense of humor about the whole thing." Yeah, great sense of humor. I felt like I wanted to hit someone. "You guys were really classy, though, which is rare on reality shows."

"Well, that's why they had us," Smartass pointed out. "We had to provide the sleaziness and idiocy and drama while they were the people everyone would be rooting for."

"Hey, they gave us some really great moments too!" Specs said. "Let's not forget Brent's mechanical bull accident." He put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a sympathetic look. "You really sent the production team into a tizzy over that one."

"Oh, God!" Smartass yelled, trying to hold back a laugh. "I thought Dan was going to have a heart attack!"

"Dan's our production manager," Swinger explained. "Everyone was really worried about you."

"Nice to know," I said, hoping the bitterness I felt didn't play out in my tone. "I mean, it's nice to feel like people care."

"Of course we do!" Jan told me, hugging me. "We're all family here!"

I gave her a small smile. "Thanks. I need some more champagne. Anyone else?" They all shook their heads and I slipped out and made my way to the bar. As I waited for the bartender to refill my glass, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"You're really drinking that stuff up," I heard Race say. "Don't get sick."

I felt my jaw tighten up and I kept my head forward, not wanting to look at him. Racetrack, more than anyone else here, had really hurt me. All of the flirting and the touching and the empty promises…they had all been to get more ratings for the show. Hell, maybe it had all been a ploy to promote himself as an actor. 'That Higgins kid who was on that fake reality show was good. He made that stupid schmuck fall in love for him!' I wanted nothing more than to spit in his face at that moment. "I don't think I could feel any sicker right now," I said softly, knowing that he'd be the only one to hear me. I grabbed the newly filled glass and tried to brush past him.

"Brent," he said to me. "Come on."

I ignored him and returned to the group who seemed to be talking about Skittery's elimination episode and his psychotic reappearances. Mayfly caught my eye. She saw the mixture of anger and embarrassment was the stirring about inside of me. She understood and she gave me a sad smile. I slipped my arm around her waist, pulling her in for a half-hug. She was the only person here I knew I could trust.

A shrill whistle sounded from the doorway. "Guys!" Cherry called. "They're going to show us some of the footage! You aren't going to want to miss this, trust me!"

Yay, more humiliation. How exciting. I felt myself being pulled along with the rest of them. While everyone else continued chattering excitedly, though, I stayed somber and mute.

I felt a hand fall on to my shoulder and pull me back. "Hey, guys, we'll catch up," Racetrack assured the others while he pulled me back. I could have smacked him, but I didn't want to cause a scene, so I let him drag me away from the rest of the group, watching as they left.

As soon as they were gone, Race turned on me. I folded my arms, hoping he'd simply get it over with. "So what's wrong?"

I shrugged, sure that I was looking like a petulant child. "Nothing."

"Don't play that game with me, Brent, I know that something is wrong, now tell me."

"What could possibly be wrong? I was fooled into thinking I was coming to compete for the love of a guy, only to find out that everyone here was an actor, except for Mayfly, and that the entire point of the show was to make her and me look like idiots. Now my friends and family can watch me doing stupid things, completely oblivious to the fact that it was all fake. Why would I possibly be upset about that?"

"So you're mad about the show?"

"I'm mad that you lied to me and made me look like a fool!"

"I didn't do anything to you, Brent! You made all of your own choices. _You_ decided to come on a reality show. _You_ decided to skinny dip with everyone else. _You_ decided to get drunk and fall all over me at the club."

"I did _not_ fall all over you!" I spat out, my face turning red. "Yes, I made the choice to come on this show, but not for this!"

Race laughed. "Oh, that's right! You were here for 'love.' That's such a load of crap, Brent. Everyone who goes on reality shows for 'love' is just looking for some kind of fulfillment. You knew you'd be asked to do degrading things, but you only cared when you found out that we were actors and had been in on the joke. I don't see why you stripping down on TV is more embarrassing when everyone else is an actor than it is when everyone else is just a normal person."

"You guys made a show around humiliating people!"

"We're not the first to do that, Brent! Every hear of _Candid Camera_ and _America's Funniest Home Videos_? What about _Punk'd_? Those ring any bells?" Racetrack's face growing red now. "I'll bet you've watched those shows without giving it another thought."

I looked down, knowing he was right. Who was I to attack this show when I watched crap like this all the time on television without feeling any sympathy for the poor saps being humiliated? Of course, I wasn't about to admit that to him. "You're such an ass," I mumbled.

"Never said I wasn't."

"You made me believe you loved me. You played with my emotions."

"Brent," he said, his tone softening, "I know that I lied to you during this thing, but I never played with your emotions. Everything I told you about how I felt about you and how I wanted to be with you…I meant it. It was the truth."

I looked up at him and saw his eyes. His words sounded sincere and he looked as though he really did mean it. But when I looked at him, all I could think of was how I'd been tricked. "I'm sorry…I want to believe you, but I can't." When Race didn't reply, I turned to go.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to give you a reason to dump me anyway."

I stopped, my body stiffening. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, Brent." I looked back at him and saw him standing there, arms crossed. "How can I know that you wouldn't have dumped me over some stupid little imperfection anyway? It's what you seemed to do to every other guy you meet."

"That's not true!"

"Bullshit, Brent! You hold every guy to this impossible standard of perfection and if they don't live up to it, you give them the boot." He pushed past me. "Personally, I think you just don't want to find a guy. Or maybe you're just so insecure about yourself that you figure they're going to dump you anyway, so you dump them before they can dump you. I hope that works out for you, Brent. If not, maybe you can just go on another stupid reality show and find some stupid sap looking for his own fifteen minutes of fame who'll pretend to love you to get ratings. At least what I said to you…at least it was real. Funny, I know, that among all of this bullshit there was something real." He stopped at the door, looking back at me sadly. "I just wish it could have grown into something just as real." And then he was gone, leaving me with nothing except a red face and a broken heart.

* * *

"Blinky?" I looked up to see Mayfly sticking her head into the room. I could tell that she was concerned. After all, I'd been sitting in that ballroom for the past half-hour while everyone else was in the media room watching the raw footage of the show. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said unconvincingly. "Just thinking."

She came in, closing the door gently behind her. "Yeah, I know," she told me as she slowly walked toward me. "I still can't believe that it was all fake." She fell into the chair beside me. Now that the two of us alone, I could see her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "I'm a bit miffed."

"I'm a bit more than miffed," I told her with a laugh. "I'm pissed, but I feel like I'm being bratty."

"Blink, you were fooled into believing you were competing for something that didn't exist. It's not bratty to be upset." She shrugged. "Although, I can't say that I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I mean, it's a reality show! They always edit and manipulate things to make people look stupid." After a pause, she rested her head against my shoulder. "It's just weird to think that I was _that_ oblivious."

"At least you got suspicious when you didn't find anything about Smartass' supposed famous father."

"So why are you sitting in here all alone? Are you embarrassed to face everyone?"

"Not really. To be honest, I'm not mad at them anymore." And it was the truth. I could tell that there had never been any malicious intent in any of this, even if they _were_ using Mayfly and me. They were all nice people trying to make a living and they had done everything they could since the big reveal to make sure Mayfly and I were okay. "I'm just sulking."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against me. "I had a fight with Racetrack," I admitted. "I yelled at him about making me fall for him. He insisted it was true, but I still ignored him. He accused me of being too insecure to allow a guy to get close to me and then he stormed out."

Mayfly was silent for a moment. "Oh. So that's why he left."

My head snapped up. "He left?" I asked incredulously. This entire time I'd assumed he was in the media room, laughing with the others as they watched the video footage. "When?"

"About half and hour ago. He peeked in and told everyone he had to catch a flight. Smartass seemed surprised and mentioned that his flight wasn't supposed to leave for another ten hours. He said he was catching an earlier flight and gave her a 'don't ask' look."

I slumped down. "Well…I guess it's good to know I won't have an awkward run-in with him before I leave tomorrow."

"You still like him." She wasn't asking; she could tell. "Give him time to cool down and take some time for yourself. Things will work out."

Race's similar proclamation that things would work out perfectly echoed in my head. It had been only yesterday when we'd danced in this exact ballroom. I'd approached him and told him my feelings and he'd pushed me off, telling me that I was making things complicated. When he'd said things would work out, I'd scoffed, assuming he couldn't possibly know how things would work out...and yet he did, at least to an extent.

"I hope so…" I told her uncertainly.

"Well, no matter what, we'll definitely still be friends when we go home, right?"

I grinned a true grin for the first time in hours. "Of course we will! How else can I learn to better myself as a gay man through the art of musical theater?" She laughed raucously, looking much more like the crazy girl I'd met two weeks ago.

"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand. She pulled me up from my seat and dragged me toward the door. "Everyone is dying to see you!"

"How is it in there?"

"It's not so bad, really. They got some great footage of us and you look smoking hot during the etiquette challenge thing, especially when you get all worried cause the desperate housewife you're dancing with is practically groping you."

"God, I hope she was an actress too and not just that psychotic in real life!"

"I'm sure she was, Blinky."

We entered the darkened media room and I looked up just in time to see footage from our night spent clubbing. I was confused for a moment, recalling that the camera men hadn't come with us. Obviously, they'd set up hidden cameras of some sort and they'd caught me in my drunken stupor. I cringed as I recalled the night. Though, at least now maybe I'd see how it ended.

Mayfly pulled me into a seat beside Smartass, who gave me a sympathetic smile. "Hey, hon," she whispered, giving my hand a slight squeeze.

I looked at the screen, watching with regret and sadness as Racetrack and I shared our kiss. I watched his hands gently stroke my hair and I watched him pull me in close to him. I watched as we pulled apart and I saw the glimmer in his eyes as he looked into mine, and I saw the sincere smile he had as his thumb gently stroked across my lips. It was a beautiful moment of us standing there, awe struck at the kiss we'd just shared, tenderly looking at each other with great vigor and passion.

It made me want to cry.

* * *

**AN:** So I basically got the idea for this entire fic while watching _Joe Schmoe 2_ about four years ago (back when I started the fic) and it was an absolute blast to plan out! I hope it was enjoyable for everyone! There is one more chapter left, but I'd just like to take a moment to thank all of my fantastic reviewers and readers, especially those of you who pushed me to not let this die. I owe you guys so much and thank you for the wonderful support and compliments!


	17. Six Months Later

_Six Months Later_

I sat in the small living area with Mush and David watching the latest episode of _Faking It!_ It was the fourth episode, the day of my infamous mechanical bull accident, and watching it happen was far more painful than actually living it. I winced as they showed my body fly up in slow motion and as they replayed my groin slamming down over and over, each time showing the shocked faces of the others.

"Wow! That's worse than I thought it would be!" Mush told me. He and David were snuggling on the couch while I sat in the chair, watching them enviously. That could have been me and Racetrack. "God, you earned that money that they gave you."

"Tell me about it," I muttered. In the six months since the show had ended, I'd come completely to terms with the entire ordeal. When I saw that the show was about to air, I decided to swallow my pride and at least watch it, considering my family would be watching it anyway. Mush and David had agreed to watch with me for moral support. They'd tried not to laugh, but I'd caught a few smirks and had heard a lot of snickering. I couldn't really blame them.

The money had actually been a small blessing. I'd stored a lot of it in the bank and, since I'd been doing a lot of freelance writing, I hadn't had to touch most of it. Now, though, Mush had been giving me small hints that he and David wanted to take their relationship to the next level and that, when the lease on our apartment was up, he was hoping I'd move out to give them their space. To be honest, I was beginning to feel like a third wheel anyway and I was all too happy to let them have their privacy. So now I was trying to find a good and affordable place for myself.

"Why don't you sue them?" David asked. "Some guy who was tricked on _Candid Camera_ did that."

I shook my head. "When I agreed to be on the show, I signed a release allowing them to use any footage of me on the show in any manner they wished." With a sigh, I sunk back down into the chair, my finger stroking the glass of wine beside me. "Besides, I would just end up looking like some guy who got his panties in a twist."

"So have you been in touch with anyone other than that Mayfly girl?"

"No," I told Mush as I watched the TV. I'd, of course, gotten the phone numbers from everyone involved – minus Racetrack, who'd left prematurely – but I'd yet to actually call any of them.

"You could probably get his number from that British chick," Mush told me. "Didn't you say they were friends?"

I gave Mush a look. "Whose number?"

My friend rolled his eyes. "Racetrack. The guy you drool over every time this is on." When I didn't respond, Mush reminded me, "He may have been an asshole, but I can tell he really liked you and I know you liked him a lot."

"I did," I agreed. "I'm not denying it. But he left and he obviously wanted nothing to do with me."

"Blink, you guys had a fight! You were both angry and you both said things you didn't really mean. That shouldn't stop you from starting a relationship with someone."

I sighed as I watched the end credits roll. "I do miss him," I admitted.

The phone rang beside me and I snatched up the receiver. "Hi, Mayfly," I greeted, already knowing it would be her. We'd spent the last three weeks talking after each episode.

"Was it painful to watch?"

"Oh, yeah. Not my proudest moment."

"I didn't want to say anything, but I was kind of wondering if they'd rigged the thing to do that. Glad to see it really was just an accident."

"Nah, they're not that malicious. Besides, that would be a potential lawsuit, and I doubt they wanted that. You looked really hot in this episode, by the by."

"Thankies! You didn't look so bad yourself. And it was so cute when…well…_he_ helped you."

I grinned, hearing Mayfly's hesitancy to say Racetrack's name. "You can say his name, May," I assured her. "And yes, it was cute."

"I'd forgotten about the big fight in the middle of lunch, though! That was hilarious!"

"Who knew it was staged? I certainly bought into it that day."

"Well, they're really good actors, Blink."

"True," I conceded. "Next week is going to be a bit of a bore, I think. Nothing really happened."

"Not that we saw. But yeah, it looks like a filler episode. Talk to you next week?"

"It's a date."

"Bye, babe! We need to get together for lunch or something because this whole not seeing you in four months? Not cool."

"I promise you, we will. I'll even pay. Bye, Mayfly!" I hung up the phone, my spirits somewhat more inflated than they had been minutes before. Mayfly seemed to have that affect on me.

Mush and David had already retreated to Mush's room, so I decided to grab some junk food and veg out. Before I could settle down with my bag of potato chips, though, the phone rang again. "Hello?"

"…Hey," said a voice that I hadn't heard in six months. "Um…how are you?"

I sat there mutely, not sure what to say. "I'm…I'm good. You?"

"Yeah, the same," he replied awkwardly.

"Um…how did you get my number?"

I heard a laugh on the other end. "Your mom gave it to me."

"My mom?"

"Yeah. I kind of stole her number from your cell phone and she and I have been talking for a couple of months."

"You've been talking to my mother?!" I bellowed. I knew my face was growing red.

"Don't be mad at her," he told me quickly, "I made her promise not to tell you. I just wanted…I mean, I didn't want to force you into talking to me or anything." I could hear his hesitancy on the other end. "I just wanted to give you time to…maybe forgive me?"

I smiled as I heard the hope in his voice. "I forgave you a while ago, Racetrack."

"I know it was crappy and I wasn't trying to hurt you. I swear to you, I wasn't."

"I know…I was just angry. I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

I heard him let out a sigh of relief. "I don't blame you for being angry or yelling at me, Blink. I…I was just hoping that maybe we could try and make this work."

This? What was "this" anyway? I mean, what did we actually have here? "How? I mean, where are you living?"

"New York right now."

I sighed. "I guess you want me to move up there?"

"Not quite," he said with a laugh. "I'm actually looking into coming down to Louisiana. I hear there's a great theater community and I'm looking at going to grad school."

"I'm flattered, but you don't have to move down here just for me," I told him.

"Get over yourself, Blink," he said teasingly. "You're just an added bonus to me moving to the Crescent City. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone who is looking for a roommate, would you?"

"As a matter of fact," I replied, my face breaking into a huge grin, "I think I may know someone who would love to have a hot, smart aleck, gay man like you as a roommate. How soon can you move down here?" I asked. And then, Racetrack said something that made me melt like butter.

"Just say the word, Blink, and I'll be there."

**AN:** And it's finished! It only took me four years! Thank you again to everyone who has read this. Thank you to the wonderful girls who provided me with the female contestants. Thank you!


End file.
